Sing you again. So musical a croaker
Surely will draw the fish upon the hooks.
JACK.
Sing while you may. The beard of manhood still is
Faint on your cheeks, but I, alas! am old.
Doubtless you yet believe in Amaryllis;—
Sing me of Her, whose name may not be told.
FRANK.
Listen, O Thames. His budding beard is riper
Say, by a week. Well, Laurence, shall we sing?
LAURENCE.
Yes, if you will. But, ere I play the piper,
Let him declare the prize he has to bring.
JACK.
Hear then, my Shepherds. Lo to him accounted
First in the song—a Pipe I will impart;
This, my Belovèd, marvellously mounted,
Amber and foam—a miracle of art.