Come, let us take our fill of love until the morning; Let us solace ourselves with loves. For the man is not at home; He is gone a long journey: He hath taken a bag of money with him; He will come home at the full moon. With her much fair speech she causeth him to yield; With the flattering of her lips she forceth him along. He goeth after her straightway, As an ox goeth to the slaughter, Or as one in fetters to the correction of the fool; Till an arrow strike through his liver; As a bird hasteth to the snare, And knoweth not that it is for his life.
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