The Hen-peck'd husband, or, Easy John/Cupid's pastime

CUPID'S PASTIME.

IT chanc'd of late a ſhepherd ſwain,
that went to ſeek his ſtraying ſheep,
Within a thicket on a plain,
eſpy'd a dainty maid aſleep.

Her golden hair o'erſpread her face;
her careleſs arms abroad were caſt:
Her quiver had her pillow's place;
her breaſt lay bare to ev'ry blaſt.

The ſhepherd ſtood and gaz'd his fill;
nought durſt he do, nought durſt he ſay,
Whilſt chance, or elſe perhaps his will,
did guide the god of love that way.

The crafty boy thus ſees her ſleep
whom if ſhe wak'd he durſt not ſee;
Behind her cloſely ſeeks to creep,
before her nap could ended be.

There come, he ſteals her ſhafts away,
and puts his own into their place;
Nor dares he any longer ſtay,
but ere ſhe wakes, he's hence away.

Scarce was he gone, but ſhe awakes,
and ſpies the ſhepherd ſtanding by;
Her bended bow in haſte ſhe takes,
and at the ſimple ſwain lets fly.

Forth flew the ſhaft, and pierc'd his heart,
that to the ground he fell with pain;
Yet up again forthwith he ſtarts.
and to the nymph he ran amain.

Amaz'd to ſee ſo ſtrange a ſight,
ſhe ſhot, and ſhot. but all in vain:
The more his wounds, the more his might,
love yielded ſtrength amidſt his pain.

Her angry eyes were great with tears,
ſhe blam'd her hands, ſhe blam'd her ſkill,
The bluntneſs of her ſhafts ſhe fears,
and try them on herſelf ſhe will.

Take heed ſweet nymph, try not thy ſhafts,
each little touch will pierce thy heart;
Alas! thou know’ſt not Cupid's craft;
revenge is joy; the end is ſmart.

Yet try ſhe will, and pierce ſome bare:
her hands were glov'd, but next hand,
Was that fair breaſt, that breaſt ſo rare,
that made the ſhepherd ſenſeleſs ſtand.

That breaſt ſhe pierc'd, and thro' that breaſt,
love found an entry to her heart;
At feeling of this new come gueſt,
oh! how this gentle nymph did ſtart!

She runs not now; ſhe ſhoots no more;
away ſhe throws both ſhaft and bow;
She ſeeks for what ſhe ſhun'd before,
ſhe thinks the ſhepherd's haſte too ſlow.

Though mountains meet not, lovers may;
what other lovers do, did they;
The God of love ſat on a tree,
and laugh'd that pleaſant ſight to ſee.