To A Much Too Unfortunate Lady

He will love you presently If you be the way you be. Send your heart a-skittering. He will stoop, and lift the thing. Be your dreams as thread, to tease Into patterns he shall please. Let him see your passion is Ever tenderer than his.... Go and bless your star above, Thus are you, and thus is Love. He will leave you white with woe, If you go the way you go. If your dreams were thread to weave He will pluck them from his sleeve. If your heart had come to rest, He will flick it from his breast. Tender though the love he bore, You had loved a little more.... Lady, go and curse your star, Thus Love is, and thus you are.