Flovvers of epigrammes, out of sundrie the moste singular authours selected, as well auncient as late writers. Pleasant and profitable to the expert readers of quicke capacitie: by Timothe Kendall, late of the Vniuersitie of Oxford: now student of Staple Inne in London

Translated out of Theocritus.

CVpido Venus dearlyng defte, to sweete his lipps with mell Sore longyng, came vnto an Hiue, where Bees did shroude and dwell.

And mindyng now with Honie sweete, to fill his bellie full He thrusts his hande into the Hiue, and fast beginnes to cull. The Bees bestirre them, by and by, and prickt hym with their styngs: Deft Cupid dolefull doeth depart, and takes hym to his wings. He stamps, he stares, he taketh on: he knowes not what to doe: At last with tinglyng stynged hande, he comes his mother to. And thus beginns to make his mone: ah mother, mother myne: The Bee moste vile and pestilent, hath kilde Cupido thyne. Ah, out alas, what shall I doe? I neuer would haue thought The selie simple shiftlesse Bee, could haue suche mischief wrought. Quoth Venus smilyng: what? alas, and doeth it greeue you so? Content your self, you are but small, yet how you strike you knowe.