O Love, O Love, they wrong thee much 
That say thy sweet is bitter, bitter. 
When thy rich fruit is such, 
As nothing can be sweeter, 
Sweeter, Fair house of joy and bliss; 
Where truest pleasure is, I do adore, 
I do adore, I do adore thee, I do adore thee; 
I know thee what thou art, 
I serve thee with my heart, 
And fall before thee, and fall before thee 
and fall before thee; I know thee, 
I serve thee, and fall before thee. 
I know thee, I serve thee, and fall before thee, 
and fall before thee.