From Rawlinson MS. Poet. 199.
To his Mistress feigning to conceal Love.
DO not rack my bleeding heart;
Fling away, or show thy dart;
Delay is a worse pain
Than proud disdain.
Do not starve my ling'ring soul,
That still waits till thou control;
And either send home mine
Or give me thine.
Dost thou love me as thine own?
O then smile and do not frown:
Love soured with debate
Is worse than hate.
Dost thou hate me as too vile?
O then frown and do not smile:
Hate sweetened so will prove
Worse than love.
Sourest friend and sweetest foe,
Do not love and hate me too:
O 'tis a double ill
To wound and kill!
Quickly, quickly, speak my fate:
Dost thou love or dost thou hate?
Lest I too soon remove
And hate thy love.
He. Ramsay.
From Rawlinson MS. Poet. 199.