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The childe God Cupid passed by that way.
(A puissant and mightie Lord of loue)
A golden quiuer hung behinde his backe,
In his left hand he bare a bended bowe:
And in his right, two fine and prety shaftes.
His eies were both bound with a silken string,
Whom, now as soone as God Apollo sawe,
Thinking that none, but he deseru’d to beare
A bowe, and shaftes, and quiuer at his backe:
In brauing sort these proud iniurious wordes,
And full of scorne he thus to him affordes.
What’s he so proude, and stoute that doth impute him
Worthy of those braue weapons in his hand?
What, knowes he not that they are due to me;
And none but I this honor may demand?
T’is Venus sonne, God Cupid, it is he,
So call’d, but heere he comes, I will salute him:
Infamous villaine, theefe and voide of shame,
And wicked robber of anothers fame.
Be these thy tooles? Tell me, why dost weare them,
That art a wanton, far for thee vnfit?
Deliuer them, for these my hands diuine
Doe beautifie, and on my shoulders sit
With better grace, and honour then on thine,
That art not able halfe ynough to beare them.
Then little boy, leaue of with these to boast thee,
If not, in faith, full deerely they shall cost thee.
This furniture is proper to my might,
These shaftes, this quiuer, and this bended bowe:
With them I slew fell Python, that of sheepe
Whole flockes within his belly did bestowe.
And them to kill wilde beastes, and birdes I keepe,
For onely these belong to me of right.
With them (moreouer) if it be my will,
With mortall woundes mine enemies I kill.
Thy fires and flames should well content thy minde,
With which (fond Loue) with loue thou giuest paine,
Ioine not thy sportes, nor thy dishonest brandes
With these braue weapons of my glorious gaine.
Leaue then this bowe, dishonoured by thy handes,
And see, if that thou canst, that art so blinde:
Thine eies are blinded with a silken string,
How canst thou then ayme right at any thing?
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