On Love.

That love 'twixt men does ever longest last
Where war and peace the dice by turns do cast.

I'll get me hence,
Because no fence
Or fort that I can make here,
But love by charms,
Or else by arms
Will storm, or starving take here.

This axiom I have often heard,
Kings ought to be more lov'd than fear'd.

Love's a thing, as I do hear,
Ever full of pensive fear;
Rather than to which I'll fall,
Trust me, I'll not like at all.
If to love I should intend,
Let my hair then stand an end:
And that terror likewise prove
Fatal to me in my love.
But if horror cannot slake
Flames which would an entrance make
Then the next thing I desire
Is, to love and live i' th' fire.

Love's of itself too sweet; the best of all
Is, when love's honey has a dash of gall.

Love, I have broke
Thy yoke,
The neck is free;
But when I'm next
Love-vexed,
Then shackle me.

'Tis better yet
To fret
The feet or hands,
Than to enthral
Or gall
The neck with bands.