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 CUPID CONJURED

purblind boy, since thou hast been so slack

To wound her heart whose eyes have wounded me

And suffered her to glory in my wrack,

Thus to my aid I lastly conjure thee!

By hellish Styx, by which the Thund'rer swears,

By thy fair mother's unavoided power,

By Hecate's names, by Proserpine's sad tears,

When she was wrapt to the infernal bower!

By thine own lovèd Psyche, by the fires

Spent on thine altars flaming up to heaven,

By all true lovers' sighs, vows, and desires,

By all the wounds that ever thou hast given;

I conjure thee by all that I have named,

To make her love, or, Cupid, be thou damned!