Oh no, my love, do not torment me so; Look in my eyes and make an end of it. Let it be quick when you draw back your bow, And with that bitter kiss more sight forbid. Your summer is scarce gone when it returns, And with another year you give your heart To some dark hunter, while the old you spurn And set this new Actaeon on my path. I would not wish more winters on my life, Thus having passed these summer days with you; Nor, having dreamt to have you once for wife, Would I return to be some mortal's fool. I will not flee, though hounds behind me cry - I'll fall at last with you still in my eyes.
 
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