To Cupid
Cupid, one arrow kindly spare,
’Twill yield me transport beyond measure,
I’ll not be mean, by heaven I swear,
With Mary I’ll divide the treasure.
Thou wilt not?—Tyrant, now I see
Thou lovest with grief my soul to harrow;
To her thou’st given thy quiver—for me
Thou hast not left a single arrow!