husband
Cupid, but he was gotten into his mothers chamber and there bewailed the
sorrowful wound which he caught by the oyle of a burning lamp.

Then the white bird the Gull, which swims on the waves of the water,
flew toward the Ocean sea, where he found Venus washing and bathing her
selfe: to whom she declared that her son was burned and in danger of
death, and moreover that it was a common brute in the mouth of every
person (who spake evill of all the family of Venus) that her son doth
nothing but haunt harlots in the mountain, and she her self lasciviously
use to ryot in the sea: wherby they say that they are flow become
no more gratious, pleasant nor gentle, but incivile, monstrous and
horrible. Moreover, that marriages are not for any amity, or for love of
procreation, but full of envy, discord, and debate. This the curious Gul
did clatter in the ears of Venus, reprehending her son. But Venus began
to cry and sayd, What hath my sonne gotten any Love? I pray thee gentle
bird that doest serve me so faithfully, tell me what she is, and what is
her name that hath troubled my son in such sort? whether shee be any of
the Nymphs, of the number of the goddesses, of the company of the Muses,
or of the mistery of the Graces? To whom the bird answered, Madam I know
not what shee is, but this I know that she is called Psyches. Then Venus
with indignation cried out, What is it she? the usurper of my beauty,
the Vicar of my name? What did he think that I was a bawd, by whose shew
he fell acquainted with the maid? And immediately she departed and went
to her chamber, where she found her son wounded as it was told unto her,
whom when she beheld she cries out in this sort.

Is this an honest thing, is this honourable to thy parents? is this
reason, that thou hast violated and broken the commandement of thy
mother and soveraign mistresse: and whereas thou shouldst have vexed my
enemy with loathsom love, thou hast done otherwise?

For being of tender and unripe yeares, thou hast with too licentious
appetite embraced my most mortall Foe, to whome I shall bee made a
mother, and she a Daughter.

Thou presumest and thinkest, thou trifling boy, thou Varlet, and without
all reverence, that thou art most worthy and excellent, and that I am
not able by reason of myne age to have another son, which if I should
have, thou shouldst well understand that I would beare a more worthier
than thou. But to worke thee a greater despight, I do deter