I Prithee Send Me Back My Heart (by: Sir John Suckling (1609 - 1641)) 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... continue reading
Love Turned To Hatred (by: Sir John Suckling (1609 - 1641)) I'll hate so perfectly that it shall be Treason to love that man that loves a she. Nay, I will hate the very good, I swear.... continue reading
Lutea Allison (by: Sir John Suckling (1609 - 1641)) You were not made to look on, though that be A bliss too great for poor mortality: In that alone those rarer parts you have To better uses sure wise nature gave... continue reading
Out Upon It, I Have Loved (by: Sir John Suckling (1609 - 1641)) Time shall moult away his wings Ere he shall discover In the whole wide world again Such a constant lover. continue reading
When, Dearest, I But Think Of Thee (by: Sir John Suckling (1609 - 1641)) Thus, while I sit and sigh the day With all its borrowed lights away, Till night's black wings do overtake me, Thinking on thee, thy beauties then... continue reading
Why So Pale And Wan, Fond Lover? (by: Sir John Suckling (1609 - 1641)) Why so pale and wan, fond lover? Prithee, why so pale? Will, when looking well can't move her, Looking ill prevail? Prithee, why so pale? continue reading
