Sonnet 17

HIs mother deere Cupid offended late,
Because that Mars grew slacker in her loue,
With pricking shot he did not throughly moue
To keepe the place of their first louing state:
The boy refusde, for feare of Marses hate;
Who thretned stripes, if he his wrath did proue:
But she in chafe him from her lappe did shoue,
Broke bowe, broke shaftes, where Cupid weeping sate,
Till that his Grandam Nature pittying it,
Of Stellas browes, made him two better bowes:
And in her eyes of arrowes infinit.
O how for ioye he leapes, ô how he crowes;
And straight therewith, like wagges new got to play:
Falls to shrewde turnes, and I was in his way.