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 cannot find it out;
For when I think I'm best resolved,
I then am most in doubt.
Then farewell love, and farewell woe,
I will no longer pine;
For I'll believe I have her heart
As much as she hath mine.
Sir John Suckling.
ORSAMES' SONG.
Why so pale and wan, fond lover?
Prithee, why so pale?
Will, when looking well can't move her,
Looking ill prevail?
Prithee, why so pale?
Why so dull and mute, young sinner?
Prithee, why so mute?
Will, when speaking well can't win her,
Saying nothing do't?
Prithee, why so mute?
Quit, quit, for shame, this will not move,
This cannot take her;
If of herself she will not love,
Nothing can make her:
The devil take her!