"And plague upon this love, I say,
For stealing thus thy friend away,
And since fast caught and wed is he
Thy friend henceforth is lost to thee,
And thou, poor Fool, dost mope and sigh,
And so a plague on love! say I."
"Nay, good Lobkyn, what know you of love?" Answered LOBKYN:
"Marry, enough o' love know I
To steal away if love be nigh.
"For love's an ill as light as air,
Yet heavy as a stone;
O, love is joy and love is care,
A song and eke a groan.
"Love is a sickness, I surmise,
Taketh a man first by the eyes,
And stealing thence into his heart,
There gripeth him with bitter smart.
Alas, poor soul,
What bitter dole,
Doth plague his every part!
"From heart to liver next it goes,
And fills him full o' windy woes,
And, being full o' gusty pain,
He groaneth oft, and sighs amain,
Poor soul is he
In verity,
And for his freedom sighs in vain."
"Miscall not love, Lobkyn, for sure True-love is
every man's birthright."
Quoth LOBKYN:
"Why then, methinks there's many a wight
That cheated is of his birthright,
As, item first, here's Lobkyn Lollo
To prove thine argument quite hollow.
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