Come forth, my son, unto my words Attentive ears resign: What I pretend, see you frequent, To force this game of mine. The king a kinswoman hath, Adorn’d with beauty store; And I wish that Diana’s gifts, They twain shall keep no more; But use my silver sug’red game Their joys for to augment. When I do speak to wound his heart, Cupid my son, consent: And shoot at him the shaft of love, That bears the head of gold, To wound his heart in lover’s wise, His grief for to unfold. Though kin she be unto his grace, That nature me expel, Against the course thereof he may, In my game please me well; Wherefore, my son, do not forget, Forthwith pursue the deed. CUPID. Mother, I mean for to obey, As you have whole decreed: But you must tell me, mother dear, When I shall arrow draw; Else your request to be attain’d Will not be worth a straw: I am blind and cannot see; But still do shoot by guess; The poets well in places store Of my might do express. VENUS. Cupid my son, when time shall serve, That thou shalt do this deed, Then warning I to thee will give; But see thou shoot with speed. _Enter_ LORD, LADY, WAITING MAID. LORD. Lady dear, to king akin, Forthwith let us proceed To trace abroad the beauty fields, As erst we had decreed: The blowing buds whose savoury scents Our sense will much delight. The sweet smell of musk-white rose, To please the appetite, The chirping birds, whose pleasant tunes Therein shall hear record, That our great joy we shall it find, In field to walk abroad. On lute and cittern there to play A heavenly harmony, Our ears shall hear, heart to content, Our sports to beautify.[246] LADY. Unto your words, most comely lord, Myself submit do I; To trace with you in field so green, I mean not to deny. [_Here trace up and down playing._ MAID. And I your waiting maid at hand With diligence will be For to fulfil with heart and hand, When you shall command me. _Enter_ KING, LORD, _and_ KNIGHT. KING. Come on, my Lord and Knight, abroad Our mirth let us employ: Since he is dead, this heart of mine In corpse I feel it joy. Should brother mine have reigned king, When I had yielded breath? A thousand brothers I rather had, To put them all to death. But, O, behold where do I see A lord and lady fair; For beauty she most worthy is To sit in prince’s chair. VENUS. Shoot forth, my son, now is the time That thou must wound his heart. CUPID.