A SONG.
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I Prithee send me back my Heart,
Since I cannot have thine:
For if from yours you will not part,
Why then should you have mine.
Yet now I think on’t, let it be,
To send it me is vain;
Thou hast a Thief in either Eye,
Will steal it back again.
Why should two Hearts in one Breast be,
And yet not be together;
Or Love, where is thy Sympathy,
If thou our Hearts do sever?
But Love is such a Mystery,
I cannot find it out;
For when I think I am best resolv’d,
Then I am most in Doubt.
Then farewel Care, then farewel Woe,
I will no longer pine;
But I’ll believe I have her Heart,
As well as she hath mine.
Bacchus turn’d Doctor. The Words by
Ben. Johnson.
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