Love is a Bauble

1. Love is a bauble.
No man is able
To say it is this, or 'tis that;
An idle passion
Of such a fashion,
'Tis like I cannot tell what.

2. Fair in the cradle,
Foul in the saddle,
'Tis always too cold or too hot;
An errant liar
Fed by desire
It is, and yet it is not.

3. Love is a fellow,
Clad all in yellow,
The cankerworm of the mind;
A privy mischief,
And such a sly thief,
No man knows where him to find.

4. Love is a wonder,
'Tis here and 'tis yonder;
'Tis common to all men we know;
A very cheater
Ev’ry one’s better,
Then hang him, and let him go.


By Richard Leveridge (1670-1758), included in the six-volume "Wit and Mirth: Or Pills to Purge Melancholy" (1720)