  I PR’YTHEE send me back my heart, Since I can not have thine; For if from yours you will not part, Why then should’st thou have mine? Yet now I think on’t, let it lie; To find it, were in vain: For thou’st a thief in either eye Why should two hearts in one breast lie, And yet not lodge together? O love! where is thy sympathy, If thus our breasts you sever? But love is such a mystery I can not find it out; For when I think I’m best resolved, I then am in most doubt. Then farewell care, and farewell woe, I will no longer pine; For I’ll believe I have her heart, As much as she has mine. Sir John Suckling. |
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