Love's Treachery: Cupid Abroad -

Cupid abroad was lated in the night,

His wings were wet with ranging in the rain;

Harbor he sought, to me he took his flight

To dry his plumes. I heard the boy complain;

I op'd the door and granted his desire,

I rose myself, and made the wag a fire.

Looking more narrow by the fire's flame,

I spied his quiver hanging by his back

Doubting the boy might my misfortune frame.

I would have gone for fear of further wrack;

But what I drad, did me, poor wretch, betide.

For forth he drew an arrow from his side.

He pierc'd the quick, and I began to start,

A pleasing wound, but that it was too high;

His shaft procur'd a sharp yet sugar'd smart.

Away he flew, for why his wings were dry;

But left the arrow sticking in my breast,

That sore I griev'd I welcom'd such a guest.