Classic Poem

[The Epilogue]

VENUSSES Search for Cupid

Downe from the third heav'n, I (that am
His queene, goddesse, & mother) come
To seeke my sonne, (the run-away
Cupid. ) I lost him yesterday.
As he lay playing in my lapp
(Whether of purpose, or by happ
I cannot say,) but his golde shaft
Fell with the point on my left side,
And prickt me'; and when my hurt he spide,
(As erst h'has serv'd me') he flew away, and laught.
But though somtime I angry seem,
A tender care I have of him;
And now (my anger layd aside)
Have bin to seeke him farr and wide;
As well my heav'ns each part about
As Mars his orbe, and thoroughout
All th'other wheeles that moove, and stand;
The shining heav'n has not a Sphere,
But I have bin to seeke him there,
Yet cannot finde this little vagabond.
Wherefore now amongst you (meeke
Mortalls) I am come to seeke
My childe, who oftentimes I knowe,
Takes delight to live with you;
But I more then halfe dispaire
To finde him 'mongst you (Ladyes faire)
For though oftentimes he flyes
About your face, and by your eyes,
And would 'faine enter your brest,
And in your bosomes make his nest;
Yet they'r so bard against him with disdaine,
That there I feare he does but knock in vain.
But amongst you Men more kinde
I may hope my sonne to finde;
Your milder brests will not disdaine
This fugitive to entertaine;
Therefore to you my sute must be;
Tell mee' (I pray') then, where is he?
He that can but give me tyding
Where the Wag has his abiding;
Shall for his rewarding, sipp
A paire of kisses from my lipp,
Soone as he will wish to take them,
Full as sweet as I can make them:
But he that shall the kindnesse do mee
To bring my little wandrer to mee,
Shall expect a greater meede
Wherewith to recompence his friendly deed;
And such as all the wealth I have
Cannot exceede; no though I gave
All Loves Kingdome: and I take
To witnesse the blacke Stigian lake,
That I will truely pay my vowe.
Tell mee therefore, tell mee now
Where's my Sonne? who graunts my suite?
But no man answeres; all are mute.
Perhaps yee have not seene the Elfe,
Or he hath so disguiz' de himselfe
Yee know him not; perhaps h' has left
His brand, and from his shoulders reft
His painted wings; and throwne them by,
With th' rest of his Artillerie.
But I' le give y' other markes of him, wherby
Yee shall diserne, and finde him easily.
This Love (thus masked) although he be
Olde both in yeares, and subtiltie;
Seemes but a boye in shape, and face,
And (like a boye in gate, and pace)
Is never constant to one place.
Such sports and pastimes useth hee,
As common unto children be;
But all his sports he tempers so,
Th' ar dangerous, and full of woe
To those he playes withall; displeas'd
He will be soone, and soone appeaz'd;
And in his face at once appeares
An enterchange of smiles and teares
His haire is gould, & curl'd, & growes
(As Fortune often painted showes)
Hanging long before; but short
And thinne on his heads hinderpart.
His face cleare-colour'd, & delightful,
Like to fire is quicke and sprightfull;
And doth easily expresse
His mindes audacious wantonnesse.
His inflam'd eyes are full of guile,
Which still he sugars with a smile.
Under the brow unhappily
He uses oft to throw his eye,
That rowles unsteedy heere and there,
And ne're is firmely fixed any where.
His toung is sweet; and when he speakes
A pleasing ayre from his lipps breakes,
In many' a peec'd imperfect word,
Which yet a winning sound affoord.
His voice is shrill, and cleare, and small,
Which uttering, still he smiles withall;
And those his fleering smiles doth baiyt
With hidden treason, and deceipt,
Which (like the Snake) lurke in the bed
Of those flowres undiscovered.
And first with these he doth beginne
To' unlocke your breasts, and enter in.
When having seem'd all courtesie,
All meekenesse, and humilitie,
And that (as a poore pilgrim) yee
Have harber'd him in charitie,
Then 'ginnes he by degrees, t' expresse
Himselfe, and wrong your easinesse,
Growes proud and wondrous insolent,
And never rests, is nere content
Untill he be (Ingratefull Elfe)
Possest of your hearts keyes himselfe;
And straite turnes all those out of dore
That there inhabited before;
And placeth others in their roome,
A troope of newer guests; to whom
He makes your reason thrall; and findes
New Lawes wherwith to rule your minds;
And thus becomes of a milde guest,
A cruell Tyrant ore the brest;
And so his new plac'd Powres assist him
He kills or conquers all that ere resist him.
Now by these markes (both of his face,
His haviour, quallities, and grace)
Which I have giv'n yee', I hope yee may
Know this disguized run-away.
Tell me' I pray' then, where is he?
But not a man will answer mee.
Yee'll conceale him from me then?
Ah foolish unadvised men,
Yee cannot Love so closely hyde,
But that at length he will be spy'de;
And in your words & looks appeare,
By tokens evident and cleare;
And then such happ will you betide,
As unto him that seekes to hide
A Snake in's bosome, till his cryes
And bloud discover where he lyes.
But since I cannot find him heere,
(Ere I returne up to my Sphere,)
I' le seeke for him on Earth some other wher.