I Pr'ythee Send Me Back My Heart
I pr'ythee send me back my heart,
Since I cannot have thine;
For if from yours you will not part,
Why then shouldst thou have mine?
Yet now I think on't, let it lie;
To find it were in vain,
For thou'st a thief in either eye
Would steal it back again.
Why should two hearts in one breast lie,
And yet not lodge together?
O love! where is thy sympathy,
If thus our breasts you sever?
But love is such a mystery,
I cannot find it out;
For when I think I'm best resolved,
I then am most in doubt.
Then farewell love, and farewell woe,
I will no longer pine;
For I'll believe I have her heart
As much as she hath mine.
Sir John Suckling (1609 – 1642)
