Note 126 — ESSAYS. (continued 2)
Reading edition
In Lilly’s pleasing play of Alexander and Campaspe there is so pretty a song put into the mouth of Apelles that I cannot help copying it.
“Cupid and my Campaspe played At cards for kisses, Cupid paid; He stakes his quiver, bow, and arrows; His mother’s doves, and team of sparrows; Loses them too; then down he throws The coral of his lip, the rose Growing on ’s cheek (but none knows how), With these the crystal of his brow, And then the dimple of his chin; All these did my Campaspe win. At last he set her both his eyes, She won, and Cupid blind did rise. O, Love! has she done this to thee? What shall, alas! become of me?”