On Friday early as may be,
take the fairest apple from the tree,
then in thy blood on paper white
thine own name and true love’s write.
That apple thou shalt cut in two
and for its cure that paper put,
with two sharp pins or myrtle wood
join the halves till it seem good,
In the oven let it dry:
And wrapped in the leaves of myrtle lie,
under the pillow of thy dear,
yet let it be unknown to her.
And if it a secret be
she soon will show her love for thee