John Suckling

But love is such a mystery, I cannot find it out; For when I think I'm best resolv'd, I then am most in doubt.

I prithee send me back my heart, Since I cannot have thine; For if from yours you will not part, Why then shouldst thou have mine?

Had it any been but she, And that very face, There had been at least ere this A dozen dozen in her place.

Out upon it! I have lov'd Three whole days together; And am like to love three more, If it prove fair weather.Time shall moult away his wings, Ere he shall discover In the whole wide world again

Her lips were red; and one was thin, Compar'd to that was next her chin (Some bee had stung it newly).

Her cheeks so rare a white was on, No daisy makes comparison (Who sees them is undone); For streaks of red were mingled there, Such as are on a Catherine pear (The side that's next the sun).

Her feet beneath her petticoat, Like little mice, stole in and out, As if they fear'd the light: But O, she dances such a way! No sun upon an Easter-day Is half so fine a sight.

The maid—and thereby hangs a tale; For such a maid no Whitson-ale Could ever yet produce: No grape, that’s kindly ripe, could be So round, so plump, so soft as she, Nor half so full of juice.

They who know all the wealth they have, are poor; He's only rich that cannot tell his store.

Women enjoy'd (whate'er before th' have been) Are like romances read, or sights once seen: Fruition's dull, and spoils the play much more Than if one read or knew the plot before. 'Tis expectation makes a blessing dear; Heaven were not …

If I a fancy take To black and blue, That fancy doth it beauty make.

O! for some honest lover's ghost, Some kind unbodied post Sent from the shades below! I strangely long to know, Whether the nobler chaplets wear, Those that their mistress' scorn did bear,

Sure Beauty's empires, like to greater states, Have certain periods set, and hidden fates.

I thought to undermine the heart By whispering in the ear.

'Tis now, since I sat down before That foolish fort, a heart, (Time strangely spent), a year and more, And still I did my part.

Love is the fart Of every heart; It pains a man when 'tis kept close, And others doth offend when 'tis let loose.

Her face is like the Milky Way i' the sky, A meeting of gentle lights without a name.

She's pretty to walk with, And witty to talk with, And pleasant, too, to think on.

High characters (cries one); and he would see Things that ne'er were, nor are, nor ne'er will be.

Just so, i' th' nick! i' th' very nick of time!

A health to the nut-brown lass, With the hazel eyes: let it pass. ... As much to the lively grey; 'Tis as good i' th' night as day.

The Prince of Darkness is a gentleman: Mahu, Mahu is his name.

But, as when an authentic watch is shown, Each man winds up and rectifies his own; So in our very judgments.

Our sins, like to our shadows, When our day is in its glory, scarce appear: Towards our evening how great and monstrous They are!