Cupid is an idle toy.
Never was there such a boy.
If there were, let any show
Or his quiver, or his bow,
Or a wound by him they got
Or a broken arrow shot.
...Money, money makes us bow:
...There is no other Cupid now.
While the world continued good
People love for flesh and blood.
Men about them bore the dart
That would catch a woman's heart.
And the women great and small
With a pretty thing they call
...Cunny, cunny won the men,
...And this was all the Cupid then.
