Page:Works of Sir John Suckling.djvu/70

50 no more favours? Not a ribband more, Not fan nor muff to hold as heretofore? Must all the little blisses then be left, And what was once love's gift become our theft? May we not look ourselves into a trance, Teach our souls parley at our eyes, not glance, Not touch the hand, not by soft wringing there Whisper a love that only yes can hear? Not free a sigh, a sigh that's there for you? Dear, must I love you, and not love you too? Be wise, nice, fair; for sooner shall they trace The feather'd choristers from place to place, By prints they make in th' air, and sooner say By what right line the last star made his way That fled from heaven to earth, than guess to know How our loves first did spring, or how they grow. Love is all spirit: fairies sooner may Be taken tardy, when they night-tricks play, Than we. We are too dull and lumpish rather: Would they could find us both in bed together!

first love, whom all beauties did adorn, Firing my heart, supprest it with her scorn; Since like the tinder in my breast it lies, By every sparkle made a sacrifice. Each wanton eye can kindle my desire, And that is free to all which was entire. Desiring more, by the desire I lost, As those that in consumptions linger most. And now my wand'ring thoughts are not confin'd Unto one woman, but to womankind: This for her shape I love, that for her face, This for her gesture, or some other grace: And where that none of all these things I find, I choose her by the kernel, not the rind: And so I hope, since my first hope is gone, To find in many what I lost in one; And, like to merchants after some great loss, Trade by retail, that cannot do in gross.