VENUS’ RUNAWAY
Reading edition
Beauties, have ye seen this toy, Called Love, a little boy, Almost naked, wanton, blind; Cruel now, and then as kind? If he be amongst ye, say? He is Venus’ runaway. He hath marks about him plenty: You shall know him among twenty. All his body is a fire, And his breath a flame entire, That, being shot like lightning in, Wounds the heart, but not the skin. At his sight the sun hath turned, Neptune in the waters burned; Hell hath felt a greater heat; Jove himself forsook his seat. From the center to the sky Are his trophies rearèd high.
Trust him not; his words, though sweet, Seldom with his heart do meet. All his practice is deceit; Every gift it is a bait; Not a kiss but poison bears; And most treason in his tears. Idle minutes are his reign; Then the straggler makes his gain By presenting maids with toys, And would have ye think them joys; ’Tis the ambition of the elf To have all childish as himself. If by these ye please to know him, Beauties, be not nice, but show him, Though ye had a will to hide him, Now, we hope, ye’ll not abide him; Since you hear his falser play, And that he’s Venus’ runaway. Ben Jonson.