Now what is Love, I pray thee tell?
Is it that fountain and that well
Where pleasures and repentance dwell.
It is perhaps that sauncing bell
That tolls all into heaven or hell.
And this is Love, as I hear tell.

Now what is Love, I pray thee say?
It is a work on holy day.
It is December matched with May,
When lusty blood in fresh array
Hear ten months after of their play.
And this is Love, as I hear say.

Now what is Love, I pray thee fain?
It is a sunshine mixed with rain.
It is a gentle pleasing pain;
A flower that dies and springs again.
It is a No that would full fain.
And this is Love, as I hear sayen.

Now what is Love, I pray thee show?
A thing that creeps, it cannot go;
Aprize that passeth to and fro;
A thing for one, a thing for moe;
And he that proves shall find it so.
And this is Love, as I well know.