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 molt 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.
- Sir John Suckling