Think I think that love should know ye,
Will you think ’tis but a thinking?
But if love the thought do show ye,
Will ye lose your eyes with winking?
Write that I do write you blessed,
Will you write ’tis but a writing?
But if truth and love confess it,
Will ye doubt the true inditing?
No, I say, and think, and write it,
Write, and think, and say your pleasure;
Love, and truth, and I indite it,
You are blessed out of measure.