Tell me, dearest, what is love?

Tell me, dearest, what is love?

'Tis a lightning from above;

'Tis an arrow, 'tis a fire;

'Tis a boy they call desire;

'Tis a grave

Gapes to have

Those poor fools that long to prove.

Tell me more, are women true?

Yes, some are, and some as you.

Some are willing, some are strange,

Since you men first taught to change,

And till troth

Be in both

All shall love to love anew.

Tell me more yet, can they grieve?

Yes, and sicken sore, but live

And be wise, and delay

When you men are as wise as they

Then I see

Faith will be

Never, till they both believe.