Six months they feasted on love’s joys so sweet;
The handmaid’s health from day to day more meet.
The doctor, now, a potion mixed for him.
His health declines; he every day grows slim.175
The coin that passes much from hand to hand
Soon loses currency, has no demand.
So he, when beauty no more graced his cheek,
Began to lack worth with the handmaid sleek.
All love that’s built on outer skin-deep charms,
Is not true love. At length shame ’tis that warms.