A Madrigal

Before me, careless, lying,

Young Love his wares came crying.

Full soon the elf untreasures

His pack of pains and pleasures;

With roguish eye,

He bids me buy

From out his pack of treasures.

His wallet's stuffed with blisses,

With true-love knots and kisses,

With rings and rosy fetters,

And sugar'd vows and letters.

He holds them out

With boyish flout,

And bids me try the fetters.

"Nay, child," I cry, "I know them;

There's little need to shew them!

Too well for new believing

I know their old deceiving,

I am too old,"

I say, "and cold,

Today, for new believing"!

But still the wanton presses,

With honey-sweet caresses,

And still, to my undoing,

He wins me with his wooing,

To buy his ware

With all its care,

It's sorrow and undoing.