Fain would I love, but that I fear
I quickly should the willow wear;
Fain would I marry, but men say
When love is tied, he will away.
Then tell me, love, what shall I do
To cure these fears whene'er I woo?
The fair one, she's a mark to all,
The brown each one doth lovely call,
The black's a pearl in fair men's eyes,
The rest will stoop at any prize.
Then tell me, love, what shall I do
To cure these fears whene'er I woo?