I prythee send me back my heart,
Since I can not have thine:
For if from yours you will not part,
Why then shouldst thou have mine?
Yet now I think ont, let it lie;
To find it were in vain,
For thoust a thief in either eye
Would steal it back again.
Why should two hearts in one breast lie,
And yet not lodge together? Oh love!
Where is thy sympathy,
If thus our breasts thou sever?
But love is such a mystery,
I cannot fine it out:
For when I think Im best resolved,
I then am in most doubt.
Then farwell care, and farwell woe,
I will not longer pine;
For I'll believe I have her heart,
As much as she has mine.
By: John Suckling