Loue is a name too louely for the god,
He naked goes, redde colour'd in his skinne,
And bare (all as a boy) fitte for a rod:
Hence into Africke, there seeke out thy kinne,
Amongst the Moores, and swarthie men of Inde,
Me thou of ioyes, and sweet content hast hindred:
Hast thou consum'd me, and art of my kinde?
Hast thou inrag'd me, yet art of my kindered?
Nay Ismarus, or Rhodope thy father,
Or craggie Caucasus thy crabbed sier,
Vesuuius else, or was it Aetna rather?
For thou how many doest consume with fier?
Fierce Tygres, Wolues, and Panthers gaue the sucke
For louely Venus had not such euill lucke.