Sil. <br /> <br />O Cupid ! Monarch ouer Kings, <br />Wherefore hast thou feete and wings? <br />It is to shew how swift thou art, <br />When thou wound'st a tender heart: <br />Thy wings being clip'd, and feete held still, <br />Thy Bow so many could not kill. <br /> <br />Acc. <br /> <br />It is all one in Venus wanton schoole, <br />Who highest sits, the wise man or the foole: <br />Fooles in loues colledge <br />Haue farre more knowledge, <br />To reade a woman ouer, <br />Than a neate prating louer. <br />Nay, tis confest, <br />That fooles please women best.<br /><br />John Lyly<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/mother-bombie/
