Upon Cupid.

Love, like a beggar, came to me With hose and doublet torn: His shirt bedangling from his knee, With hat and shoes outworn. He ask'd an alms; I gave him bread, And meat too, for his need: Of which, when he had fully fed, He wished me all good speed. Away he went, but as he turn'd (In faith I know not how) He touch'd me so, as that I burn['d], And am tormented now. Love's silent flames and fires obscure Then crept into my heart; And though I saw no bow, I'm sure His finger was the dart.