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
Such a constant lover.
But the spite on't is, no praise
Is due at all to me;
Love with me had made no stays,
Had it any been but she.
Had it any been but she,
And that very face,
There had been at least ere this
A dozen dozen in her place.
More verses by Sir John Suckling
- Song
- Why So Pale And Wan, Fond Lover?
- I Prithee Send Me Back My Heart
- The Constant Lover
- Love Turned To Hatred