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LXXXIV. To Lucy Countesse Of Bedford.

Madame, I told you late, how I repented,
I ask'd a Lord a Buck, and he denied me;
And, ere I could aske you, I was prevented:
For your most noble offer had supply'd me.
Straight went I home; and there most like a Poet,
I fancied to my selfe, what wine, what wit
I would have spent: how every Muse should know it,
And Phœbus-selfe should be at eating it.
O Madame, if your grant did thus transfer me,
Make it your gift. See whither that will beare me.