Greek Texts & Translations

30.1 Aye me, the pain and the grief of it! I have been sick of Love’s quartan now a month and more. He’s not so fair, I own, but all the ground his pretty foot covers is grace, and the smile of his face is very sweetness. ‘Tis true the ague takes me now but day on day off, but soon there’ll be no respite, no not for a wink of sleep. When we met yesterday he gave me a sidelong glance, afeared to look me in the face, and blushed crimson; at that, Love gripped my reins still the more, till I gat me wounded and heartsore home, there to arraign my soul at bar and hold with myself this parlance: “What wast after, doing so? whither away this fond folly? know'st thou not there’s three gray hairs on thy brow? Be wise in time, or one that is no youth in’s looks shall play new-taster o’ the years. Other toys thou forgettest; ‘twere better, sure, at thy time o’ life to know no more such loves as this. For whom Life carries swift and easy as hoof doth hind, and might endure to cross and cross the sea every day’s morrow that is, can he and the flower o’ sweet Youth abide ever of one date? How much less he that hath yearnful remembrance gnawing at his heart’s core, and dreams often o’ nights and taketh whole years to cure his lovesickness!”