The Works of Sir John Suckling in prose and verse/If when Don Cupid's dart
If when Don Cupid's dart
Then if we whine, look pale,
When this I do descry,
1
Doth wound a heart,
We hide our grief
And shun relief,
The smart increaseth on that score;5
For wounds unsearcht but rankle more.
2
And tell our tale,
Men are in pain
For us again;10
So, neither speaking doth become
The lover's state, nor being dumb.
3
Then thus think I:
Love is the fart10
Of every heart;
It pains a man when 'tis kept close,
And others doth offend when 'tis let loose.