Cupid, a spoiled and peevish boy,

Is always wanting some new toy;

And what is more, his mother Venus

Never denies—quodcunque genus—

Any odd thing the urchin fancies,

From kings and queens to scullery Nancies.

His fondling mother, t' other day,

Gave him some hearts wherewith to play;

No sooner did the rascal take them,

Than he began to bruise and break them!

H. R.