To Cupid
Love, if a God thou art,
Then evermore thou must
Be merciful and just.
If thou be just, oh wherefore doth thy dart
Wound mine alone, and not my Lady's heart?
If merciful, then why
Am I to pain reserved,
Who have thee truly served;
While she that by thy power sets not a fly,
Laughs thee to scorn, and lives at liberty?
Then, if a God thou wilt accounted be,
Heal me like her, or else wound her like me.
Then evermore thou must
Be merciful and just.
If thou be just, oh wherefore doth thy dart
Wound mine alone, and not my Lady's heart?
If merciful, then why
Am I to pain reserved,
Who have thee truly served;
While she that by thy power sets not a fly,
Laughs thee to scorn, and lives at liberty?
Then, if a God thou wilt accounted be,
Heal me like her, or else wound her like me.
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