last night the violet spoke to the rose and gave a good hint-
so and so’s tresses you know have given my curls to the world!
my heart was a treasury of secrets, but the hand of fate
shut the door, and turned the key over to the thief of hearts!
broken, i arrived at your court that the physician
show me the healing salve of your kindness.
he passed poor me and remarked to the rivals-
alas, my beggarly lover! how his spirit expires!
may good fortune give sound body and happy heart
to him whose friendly hand gives good justice!
get lost, and eat your own medicine (you quack)-
for whom wine and beloved are nothing but a loss!