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Ah, ah, thou torturing Love, why clingest thou to me like a leech of the fen, and drainest all the black blood from my body? My magic wheel, draw home to me the man I love! Lo, I will crush an eft, and a venomous draught to-morrow I will bring thee! My magic wheel, draw home to me the man I love! And now that I am alone, whence shall I begin to bewail my love?
As the old woman got slowly to her feet, the man sprang up beside her. "My son, though thou drainest a fortune from the mint of Love at dawn, yet is it still there at eventide," she whispered as she raised her jewelled hand to his shoulders and pulled him down towards her. "My son, thou art my son, and I have faith in and a great love for thee and thine."