Once Cupid had compassion of my state,
And wounded with a wonderfull remorce,
Vow'd that he would my cruell faire enforce,
To melt the rigor of her cold conceit:
But when he came his purpose to fulfill,
And shot at her a volly from the skies,
She did receiue the darts within her eyes;
Then in those cristall quiuers kept them still.
Who vaunt before they win, oft lose the game;
And the presumptuous mind gets maniest foiles.
Lo he that thought t'haue triumph'd ore her spoiles,
But come with pride, and went away with shame:
And where he hop'd t'haue help'd me by this strife,
He brought her armes wherewith to take my life.