Cupid, I Hate Thee, Which I'd Have Thee Know

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Title:     Cupid, I Hate Thee, Which I'd Have Thee Know
Author: Michael Drayton [More Titles by Drayton]

Cupid, I hate thee, which I'd have thee know,
A naked Starveling ever may'st thou be,
Poor Rogue, go pawn thy Fascia and thy Bow,
For some few Rags, wherewith to cover thee;
Or if thou'lt not, thy Archerie forbear,
To some base Rustick do thyself prefer,
And when Corn's sown, or grown into the Ear,
Practise thy Quiver, and turn Crow-keeper;
Or being Blind (as fittest for the Trade)
Go hire thyself some bungling Harpers Boy;
They that are blind, are Minstrels often made,
So may'st thou live, to thy fair Mother's Joy:
That whilst with MARS she holdeth her old way,
Thou, her Blind Son, may'st sit by them, and play.

[The end]
Michael Drayton's poem: Cupid, I Hate Thee, Which I'd Have Thee Know

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