Nor was sly Kate by all unseen
Peeping, the hazle copse between.
And now across the thicket side
A tatter’d, skulking youth she spied;
He beckon’d her along, and soon,
Hid safely from the prying moon,
His hand with silver, thrice she crosses—
“Tell me,” said she, “my gains and losses?”
“You gain a fool,” the youth replies,
“You lose a lover too.”