"Think now," quoth she, "my son, how great the smart 35
Of those whom thou dost wound:
Full many thou hast pricked to the hart,
That pitty never found.
Therefore, henceforth some pitty take,
When thou doest spoyle of lovers make." 40
She tooke him streight full pitiously lamenting,
She wrapt him softly, all the while repenting
That he the fly did mock.
She drest his wound, and it embaulmed well 45
With salve of soveraigne might;
And then she bath'd him in a dainty well,
The well of deare delight.
Who would not oft be stung as this,
To be so bath'd in Venus blis? 50
The wanton boy was shortly wel recured
Of that his malady;
But he soone after fresh again enured*
His former cruelty.
And since that time he wounded hath my selfe 55
With his sharpe dart of love,
And now forgets the cruell carelesse elfe
His mothers heast** to prove.
So now I languish, till he please
My pining anguish to appease. 60
[* _Enured_, practised.
Pages:
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356