FAIN would I love, but that I fear I quickly should the willow wear; Fain would I marry, but men say When love is tied he will away; Then tell me, love, what shall I do To cure these fears, whene'er I woo? The fair one she 's a mark to all, The brown each one doth lovely call, The black's a pearl in fair men's eyes, The rest will stoop at any prize; Then tell me, love, what shall I do To cure these fears, whene'er I woo? |