Had she but loved me as I her, then were she
After my death all out of love with life.
What the heart’s out of love with lets a man
Begone, nor rues it. No one holds it fast.
What was the point to ponder? Had she not
Tripped me behind my back, she’d gladly die;
Whereas if she did trip me, then were hers
A well-earned death for such a double front.
Then let the friend of twilight blame my step,
The light’s my choice, and now I see full clear,