And here one which is far from ungraceful:
“Undo, my dear, the charm which you have made,
And let me now go free.”
“To make you go my charm was never laid,
But to make you marry me.”
The following might seem like an imitation of Shakspere; but it is a quite true rendering from the mouth of peasants to whom Shakspere was not even a name:
Green leaf of the poplar grove,
Tell me, prythee, whence comes love?
From the eyes or from the brows,
Or from the crimson lips?