WHen first the rage of loue assail'd my hart,
And towards my thoughts his fiery forces bent:
Eftsoones to shield me from his wounding dart,
Arm'd with disdaine, I held him in contempt.
Curld headed loue when from mount Erecine
He saw this geere, so ill thereof he brookes,
That thence he speedes vnwilling to be seene,
Till he had tane his stand in thy faire lookes.
There all inrag'd his golden bow he bent,
And nockt his arrow like a pretie elfe:
Which when I saw, I humbly to him went,
And cri'd hold, hold, and I will yeeld my selfe.
Thus Cupid conquer'd me, and made me sweare
Homage to him, and dutie to my deare.
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