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(15) And euery thing that I can name, or may in fancie come. The substance of the sights I saw, in silence passe they shall: Because I lack the skill to draw, (20) the order of them all. But Venus shall not passe my pen, whose maydens in disdaine: Did feed vpon the harts of men, that Cupids bowe had slaine. (25) And that blinde boy was all in blood, be-bath’d to the eares: And like a Conquerour he stood, and scorned Louers teares. I haue (quoth he) more harts at call, (30) then C├Žsar could commaund: And like the Deare I make them fall, that runneth o’re the lawnd. One drops downe heere, another there, in bushes as they groane; (35) I bend a scornfull carelesse eare, to heare them make their moane. Ah Sir (quoth Honest Meaning ) then, thy boy-like brags I heare: When thou hast wounded many a man, (40) as Hunts-man doth the Deare. Becomes it thee to triumph so? thy Mother wills it not: For she had rather breake thy bowe, then thou shouldst play the sot. (45) What saucie merchant speaketh now, sayd Venus in her rage: Art thou so blinde thou knowest not how I gouerne euery age? My Sonne doth shoote no shaft in wast, (50) to me the boy is bound: He neuer found a hart so chast, but he had power to wound,