XXIII. Say, Cupid, since thou wings so swift dost bear

Robert Tofte (1561–1620)

SAY, CUPID, since thou wings so swift dost bear;

Within my heart, alone, why dost thou lie?

Why dost not seek to lodge some other where;

And to some other place, why dost not hie?

Go unto her, who hath the lily breast!

Who though she hates me; yet I love her best.

If her, to entertain thee thou shalt find;

It is a sign she hateth me no more.

Straight then, return again; and show her mind

To my desire! who for this news longs sore.

Then, prithee, go! No longer ling’ring stay!

Lest, when thou wouldst, thou canst not go thy way.