Cupids Courtesie:
OR,
The young Gallant foild at his own Weapon.
He scorned Cupid and his Dart,
Until he felt a wounded Heart.
To a pleasant Northern Tune. By J.P.
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THrough the cool shady Woods,
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as I was ranging,
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I heard the pretty Birds
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notes sweetly changing;
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Down by a Meadow side,
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there runs a River,
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A little Boy I espyd
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with Bow and Quiver.
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Little Boy, tell me why
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thou art here diving,
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Art thou some Run-away,
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and hast no biding?
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I am no Run-away,
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Venus my mother,
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She gave me leave to play
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when I came hither.
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Little Boy go with me,
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and be my Servant,
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I will take care to see
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for thy preferment;
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If I with thee should go,
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Venus would chide me,
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And take away my Bow,
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and never abide me.
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Little Boy let me know,
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whats thy name termed,
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That thou dost wear a Bow,
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and go so armed,
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You may perceive the same,
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with often changing,
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Cupid it is my name,
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I live by ranging.
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If Cupid be thy name,
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that shoots at Rovers,
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I have heard of thy fame,
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by wounded Lovers:
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Should any languish that
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are set on fire,
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By such a naked Brat,
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I much admire.
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IF thou dost but the least,
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at my Laws grumble,
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Ile pierce thy stubborn Brest
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and make thee humble;
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If I with golden Dart,
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wound thee but surely,
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Theres no Physicians art,
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that ere can cure thee.
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Little Boy with thy Bow,
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why dost thou threaten?
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It is not long ago
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since thou was beaten:
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Thy wanton Mother fair,
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Venus will chide thee,
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When all thy Arrows are gone,
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thou mayest go hide thee.
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Of powerful shafts you see,
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I am well stored,
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Which makes my diety,
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so much adored:
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With one poor Arrow now,
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Ile make thee shiver,
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And bend unto my Bow,
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and fear my Quiver.
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Dear little Cupid be
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courteous and kindly,
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I know thou canst not hit
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but shootest blindly.
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Although thou calls me blind,
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surely ile hit thee,
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That thou shalt quickly find,
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Ile not forget thee.
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Then little Cupid caught
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his Bow so nimble,
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And shot a fatal Shaft
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which made him tremble:
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Go tell thy Mistress dear,
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thou canst discover,
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What all the Passions are,
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of a dying Lover.
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And now this gallant heart,
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sorely was bleeding,
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And felt the greatest smart
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from Love proceeding:
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He did her help implore,
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whom he affected,
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But found that more and more,
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him she rejected.
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For Cupid with his craft
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quickly had chosen,
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And with a leaden shaft,
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her heart had frozen,
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Which causd this Lover, more
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sadly to languish,
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And Cupids aid implore,
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to heal his anguish.
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He humble pardon cravd
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for his offence past,
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And vowd himself a slave,
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and to Love stedfast;
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His prayers so ardent were,
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whilst his heart panted,
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That Cupid lent an ear,
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and his suit granted.
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For by his present plaint,
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he was regarded,
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And his adored Saint,
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his Love rewarded:
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And now they live in joy,
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sweetly imbraceing,
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And left the little Boy
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in the Woods chasing.
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