Oh how I'd dreamed my love was true-
'Till he rose from my arms and went to you,
And then to yet another's bed
And all the while, "I love you," he said!
He took from you your sweetest wine
Then back to me, to drink of mine-
While we both gave free our trust
He snared several others to please his lust!
Now, you and I, poor fools are we,
Yet not so much a fool as he!
For he who practiced to deceive
Shall Cunning's wages full receive...