SIR JOHN SUCKLING

For there the judges all are just, And Sophonisba must

Be his whom she held dear. Not his who loved her here. The sweet Philoclea, since she died, Lies by her Pirocles his side, Not by Amphialus.

Some bays, perchance, or myrtle bough For difference crowns the brow Of those kind souls that were The noble martyrs here : And if that be the only odds (As who can tell ?), ye kinder gods, Give me the woman here !

��O

��$26. The Constant Lover

|UT upon it, I have loved

Three whole days together! And am like to love three more, If it prove fair weather.

Time shall moult away his wings Ere he shall discover

In the whole wide world again Such a constant lover.

But the spite on \ 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.

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