Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE HUNTING OF CUPID by GEORGE PEELE

First Line: WHAT THING IS LOVE (FOR WEL I WOT) LOVE IS A THING
Last Line: SOME PRETTIE LYE HE COINED.
Subject(s): LOVE - COMPLAINTS;
@3Love.@1 What thing is love (for wel I wot) love is a thing
it is a pricke, it is a sting
it is a prettie, prettie thing
it is a fire, it is a cole
whose flame creepes in at eurie hole.
and is [@3read@1 as] my wit doth best devise
loves dwelling is in ladys eies:
from whence do glance loves piercing darts
that mak such holes into o@5r@1 harts
and al the world herin accord
love is a great and mightie lord
And when he list to mount so hie
With Venus he in heaven doth lie
And ever more hath been a god
Since Mars and sche plaid even and od.
Kis a litle and use not.
@3Q.@1 why kissings good. @3R.@1 to stirre zour bloud to make zou wel
dispos'd to play. ab aquilone omne malum. wold have moued teares in vreath [@3i.
e.@1 wrath] herselfe. wrinckled sorrow sate in furrowes of a faire face. famous
for his il fortune. zou that think ther is no heaven but on earth. zou that
sucke poison insteed of honney. he excedeth fiends in crueltie and fortune in
unconstancie.
set up Cynthea by day and Citherea by nig@5t@1
sche strakid his head and mist his hornes.
who bluntly bespake her
grew this sueet rose in this soure stalke
@3Cupids@1 At Venus entreate for Cupid her sone
@3Arrowes@1 these arrowes by Vlcan are cunningly done
the first is love the second shafte is hate
but this is hope from whence sueet comfort springs
this jelousie in bassest minds doth duell
his mettall Vlcan's Cyclops fetcht from Hel
a smaking kis that wakt me w@5t@1 the dine
know good and eschew it praise chastnesse and follow lustful love like the old
[@3one or two words illegible here@1]
al quicklie com home by weeping crosse.
highest imperial orbe and throne of the thunder
Et non morieris inultus. schelter and shade.
holdeth them faster than Vlcan's fine wires kept Mars.
a song to be sung for a wager a dish of damsons new gathered off the trees.
Melampus when wil love be voide of feares
when jelousie hath nather eies nor eires
Melampus tel me when is love best fed
when it hath suck[t]e the sueet y@5t@1 ease hath bred
Licoris as sueet to him as licorice. Cor sapit et [@3some words illegible
here@1] a hot liver must be in a lover. To commend anay thing is the Italian way
of crauing. my hart is like a point of geometrie indiuisible, and wher it goes
it goes al.
Hard hart that did thy reed (poore shephard) brake
thy reed y@5t@1 was the trumpet of thy wit
Zet though unworthie sound thy phenix's praise
and with this slender pipe her glorie raise
Cupid enraged to see a thousand boyes
as faire as he sit shooting in her eies
fell doune and sche
pluckt al his plumes and made herselfe a fan
suering him her true litle seruing man.
Muse chuse
My mistres feeds the ayre ayre feeds not her
ly@5t@1 of the ly@5t@1 sche is, delyt supreame.
Zet so far from the lytness of her sex
for sche is the bird whose name doth end in X.
Not clouds cast from the spungie element
nor darknesse shot from Orcus pitchie eyes
Zet both her shines vailed w@5t@1 her arche beauties
her words such quickning odors cast
as raise the sicke and make the soundest thinke
ayre is not wholsome, til her walke be past
more then the fontaynes til the vnicornes drinke
a thousand echoes vat [@3i. e.@1 wait] upon her voice.
@3Cupid.@1 Those milkie mounts he eurie morning hants
wher to their drink his mothers doues he calls.
in my younger dayes when my witts ran a wool gathering
some prettie lye he coined.



Home: PoetryExplorer.net