The Treasury of Musick Containing ayres and dialogues To Sing to the theorbo-lute or basse-viol. Composed |
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Venus Hue and Cry after Cupid.
[1]
Beauties, have ye seen a Toy,Called, Love a little Boy;
Almost Naked, Wanton, Blind,
Cruel; now and then as kind:
If he be amongst you, say,
He is Venus run away.
2
She that will now but now discoverWhere this Winged-wag doth 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.
3
Marks he hath about him plenty,You shall know him among twenty,
All his body is a fre,
And his breath a flame entire,
That brings shot (like light'ning) in
Wounds the Heart but not the skin.
4
Wings he hath which though you clip,He will leap from Lip to Lip;
Over Liver, Lips, and Heart,
But ne're stay in any part:
And if by chance his Arrow misies,
He will shoot himself in kisses.
5
He doth bear a golden Bow,And a Quiver hanging low,
Full of Arrows that out-brave
Dians Shafts; what if he have
Any head more sharp than other?
With that kiss he strikes his mother.
6
Still the fairest are his fuel,When his daies are to be cruel,
Lovers hearts are all his food,
And his Bath's their warmest Blood:
Nought but wounds his hands doth season,
And he hates none like to reason.
7
Trust him not, his words, though sweet,Seldom with his heart do meet;
All his practice is deceit,
Ev'ry gift is a bait,
Not a kiss but poyson bears,
And most treason in his tears.
8
Idle minutes are his reign,Them the stragler makes his gain,
By presenting Maids with toys,
And would have ye think 'em toys;
'Tis the ambition of the Else,
To have all childish as himself.
9
If by these you please to know him,Beauties be not nice, but show him,
Though you had a will to hide him,
Now I hope ye'le not abide him:
Since ye hear his falser play,
And that he's Venus Ran-away.
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