Page:Works of Sir John Suckling.djvu/55

Rh If by this thou dost discover That thou art no perfect lover, And, desiring to love true, Thou dost begin to love anew, Know this, Thou lov'st amiss; And, to love true, Thou must begin again, and love anew.

't, young man, I can as eas'ly tell How many yards and inches 'tis to hell, Unriddle all predestination, Or the nice points we now dispute upon. Had the three goddesses been just as fair, It had not been so easily decided; And sure the apple must have been divided: It must, it must; he's impudent, dares say Which is the handsomer till one's away. And it was necessary it should be so: Wise Nature did foresee it, and did know, When she had fram'd the eldest, that each heart Must at the first sight feel the blind god's dart: And, sure as can be, had she made but one, No plague had been more sure destruction; For we had lik'd, lov'd, burnt to ashes too, In half the time that we are choosing now: Variety and equal objects make The busy eye still doubtful which to take, This lip, this hand, this foot, this eye, this face, The other's body, gesture, or her grace; And, whilst we thus dispute which of the two, We unresolv'd go out, and nothing do. He sure is happiest that has hopes of either; Next him is he that sees them both together.

we have taught our love to know That it must creep where 't cannot go,