Sonnet 17: His Mother Dear Cupid
His
mother
dear
Cupid
offended
late,
Because
that
Mars
grown
slacker
in
her
love,
With
pricking
shot
he
did
not
throughly
more
To
keep
the
pace
of
their
first
loving
state.
The
boy
refus'd
for
fear
of
Mars's
hate,
Who
threaten'd
stripes,
if
he
his
wrath
did
prove:
But
she
in
chafe
him
from
her
lap
did
shove,
Brake
bow,
brake
shafts,
while
Cupid
weeping
sate:
Till
that
his
grandame
Nature
pityijng
it
Of
stella's
brows
make
him
two
better
bows,
And
in
her
eyes
of
arrows
infinite.
Oh
how
for
joy
he
leaps,
oh
how
he
crows,
And
straight
therewith
like
wags
new
got
to
play,
Falls
to
shrewd
turns,
and
I
was
in
his
way.
