LVII
Three playfellows—such three were never seen
In Venus' court—upon a summer's day,
Met altogether on a pleasant green,
Intending at some pretty game to play.
They Dian, Cupid, and Fidessa were.
Their wager, beauty, bow, and cruelty;
The conqueress the stakes away did bear.
Whose fortune then was it to win all three?
Fidessa, which doth these as weapons use,
To make the greatest heart her will obey;
And yet the most obedient to refuse
As having power poor lovers to betray.
With these she wounds, she heals, gives life and death;
More power hath none that lives by mortal breath.
