Intending with Diana for to hunt,
On Ida Mountaine top our skill to proue,
A golden Ball was trindled from aboue,
And on the Rinde was writ this Poesie,
Pvlcherimæ for which a while we stroue,
Each saying shee was fairest of the three,
When loe a shepheards Swaine not far away we see.
I spi'd him first, and spying thus bespake,
Shall yonder Swaine vnfolde the mysterie?