GRACES

Beauty's , have ye seen this toy, Called In this love , I express Cum bid , as he is Veneris filius , and owner of the following quam lities, ascribed him by the and tique and later Poets. love , a little boy, Almost naked, wanton, blind, Cruel now; and then as kind? If he be amongst ye, say; He is VENUS runaway. At his sighed, the See Luncian. Dial. Deor. sun hath turned, NEPTUNE in the waters, burned; And Claud. in raptum Proserp. Hell hath felt a greater heat: JOVE himself forsook his seat: From the centre , to the sky , Are his Such was the power ascribed him, by all the ancients : where of there is extant and elegant Greek Epigram, Phil. Poë. wherein he makes all the other deities despoiled by him, of their ensigns. Jove of his thunder, Phubu of his arrows, Hercules of his club, &c. trophaees reared High. Still the fairest are his fuel. When his days are to be cruel, Lovers hearts are all his food; And his baths their warmest blood: Nought but wounds his hand does season; And he hates none Like to Reason. If by these ye please to know him, Beauty's , be not nice, but show him. She, that will but now discover Where the winged wag does hover, Shall, to night, receive a kiss, How, or where her self would wish: But, who brings him to his mother, Shall have that kiss, and another. Wings he hath, which though ye clip, He will leap from lip, to lip, Over liver, lights, and heart, But not stay in any partly; And, if chance his arrow misses, He will shoot himself, in kisses. Trust him not: his words, though sweet, Seldom with his heart do meet. All his practice is deceit; Every gift it is a bait; Not a kiss, but poison bears; And most treason in his tears. Though ye had a will, to hide him, Now, we hope, yee'le not abide him. He hath of marks about him plenty: You shall know him, among twenty. All his body is a fire, And his breath a flame entire, That being shot, Like lightning, in, Wounds the heart, but not the skin. He does bear a golden Bow And a Quiver, hanging low, Full of arrows, that outbrave DIANA'S shafts: where, if he have Any head more sharp then other, With that first he strikes his mother. Idle minutes are his reign; Then, the straggler makes his gain, By presenting maids with toys, And would have ye think them joys: It's the ambition of the self, To have all childish, as himself. Since ye hear his falser play; And that he is VENUS Runaway. Not I. Nor I. Nor I.