A crystal vial Cupid brought,
Which had a juice in it;
Of which who drank, he said no thought
Of love he should admit.
I, greedy of the prize, did drink,
And emptied soon the glass;
Which burnt me so, that I do think
The fire of hell it was.
Give me my earthen cups again,
The crystal I contemn;
Which, though enchas’d with pearls, contain
A deadly draught in them.
And thou, O Cupid! come not to
My threshold, since I see,
For all I have, or else can do,
Thou still wilt cozen me.
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