Page:Works of Sir John Suckling.djvu/84

64 I cannot speak, but I can do As much as any of our crew; And, if you doubt it, some of you May prove me.

I dare be bold thus much to say: If that my bullets do but play, You would be hurt so night and day, Yet love me.

confess, when I did part from you, I could not force an artificial dew Upon my cheeks, nor with a gilded phrase Express how many hundred several ways My heart was tortur'd, nor, with arms across, In discontented garbs set forth my loss: Such loud expressions many times do come From lightest hearts: great griefs are always dumb. The shallow rivers roar, the deep are still; Numbers of painted words may shew much skill: But little anguish and a cloudy face Is oft put on, to serve both time and place: The blazing wood may to the eye seem great; But 'tis the fire rak'd up that has the heat, And keeps it long. True sorrow's like to wine: That which is good does never need a sign. My eyes were channels far too small to be Conveyers of such floods of misery: And so pray think; or if you'd entertain A thought more charitable, suppose some strain Of sad repentance had, not long before, Quite emptied for my sins that watery store: So shall you him oblige that still will be Your servant to his best ability.

I am, that take great care And mickle pains for to sell small-ware: I had need do so, when women do buy, That in small wares trade so unwillingly.