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John Suckling

“

Out upon it, I have loved
Three whole days together;
And am like to love three more,
If it prove fair weather.

John Suckling

“

Joy never feasts so high as when the first course is of misery.

John Suckling

“

Her feet beneath her petticoat Like little mice, stole in and out, As if they feared the light; But oh, she dances such a way! No sun upon an Easter-day Is half so fine a sight.

John Suckling

“

Quit, quit, for shame, this will not move,
This cannot take her.
If of herself she will not love,
Nothing can make her.
The devil take her!

John Suckling

“

Why so pale and wan, fond lover?
Prithee, why so pale?
Will, when looking well can’t move her,
Looking ill prevail?

John Suckling

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