 | The Works of Michael Drayton
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48
[Cupid, I hate thee, which I'de have thee know]
Cupid, I hate thee, which I'de have thee know,
A naked Starveling ever may'st thou be,
Poore Rogue, goe pawne thy Fascia and thy Bow,
For some few Ragges, wherewith to cover thee;
Or if thou'lt not, thy Archerie forbeare,
To some base Rustick doe thy selfe preferre,
And when Corne's sowne, or growne into the Eare,
Practise thy Quiver, and turne Crow-keeper;
Or being Blind (as fittest for the Trade)
Goe hyre thy selfe some bungling Harpers Boy;
They that are blind, are Minstrels often made,
So may'st thou live, to thy faire Mothers Joy:
That whilst with Mars she holdeth her old Way,
Thou, her blind Sonne, may'st sit by them, and play.
| The Works of Michael Drayton
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