I know you love me not, say what you may,
I'll not believe, no, no, my faithless one;
With all the rest I see you laugh and play,
'Tis only I, I only whom you shun.
Ah, could I follow where you lead the way:
The obstinate thoughts upon your traces run
Make me a feint of love, though you have none,
For I must think upon you night and day.
The scene is easily pictured: the bravery of words at meeting, all the just displeasure of many a day bursting forth; then the cessation of anger in the beloved presence and the final unconditional surrender. A lighter mood succeeds, but love's royal clemency is still the text: