Yet all in vain, when all is out of season,
For "Love hath no society with Reason."
XLVII.
Heart's Ease and I have been at odds, too long!
I follow fast, but still he flies from me!
I sue for grace, and yet sustain the wrong;
So gladly would I reconcilèd be.
Love! make us one! So shalt thou work a wonder;
Uniting them, that were so far asunder.
XLVIII.