Upon Love: By Way Of Question And Answer

I bring ye love.    QUES. What will love do?
ANS. Like, and dislike ye.
I bring ye love.    QUES. What will love do?
ANS. Stroke ye, to strike ye.
I bring ye love.    QUES. What will love do?
ANS. Love will be-fool ye.
I bring ye love.    QUES. What will love do?
ANS. Heat ye, to cool ye.
I bring ye love.    QUES. What will love do?
ANS. Love, gifts will send ye.
I bring ye love.    QUES. What will love do?
ANS. Stock ye, to spend ye.
I bring ye love.    QUES. What will love do?
ANS. Love will fulfil ye.
I bring ye love.    QUES. What will love do?
ANS. Kiss ye, to kill ye.

Robert Herrick

Robert Herrick was a 17th-century English lyric poet and cleric. He is known for his book of poems, "Hesperides," which includes the carpe diem poem "To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time." His works are noted for their clarity, simplicity, and musical quality. Herrick was also a vicar of Dean Prior in Devon, despite being ejected during the English Civil War and later reinstated.

Robert Herrick

Another. (Of God.)

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

Upon Parson Beanes.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

Upon Burr.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

Fear Gets Force.

Robert Herrick, Simple Poetry

English

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Upon Love: By Way Of Question And Answer

I bring ye love.QUES. What will love do?
ANS. Like, and dislike ye.
I bring ye love.QUES. What will love do?
ANS. Stroke ye, to strike ye.
I bring ye love.QUES. What will love do?
ANS. Love will be-fool ye.
I bring ye love.QUES. What will love do?
ANS. Heat ye, to cool ye.
I bring ye love.QUES. What will love do?
ANS. Love, gifts will send ye.
I bring ye love.QUES. What will love do?
ANS. Stock ye, to spend ye.
I bring ye love.QUES. What will love do?
ANS. Love will fulfil ye.
I bring ye love.QUES. What will love do?
ANS. Kiss ye, to kill ye.

Robert Herrick

Of Love.

1. Instruct me now what love will do.
2. 'Twill make a tongueless man to woo.
1. Inform me next, what love will do.
2. 'Twill strangely make a one of two.
1. Teach me besides, what love will do.
2. 'Twill quickly mar, and make ye too.
1. Tell me now last, what love will do.
2. 'Twill hurt and heal a heart pierc'd through.

Robert Herrick

An Hymn To Love.

    I will confess
    With cheerfulness,
Love is a thing so likes me,
    That let her lay
    On me all day,
I'll kiss the hand that strikes me.

    I will not, I,
    Now blubb'ring, cry,
It, ah! too late repents me,
    That I did fall
    To love at all,
Since love so much contents me.

    No, no, I'll be
    In fetters free:
While others they sit wringing
    Their hands for pain,
    I'll entertain
The wounds of love with singing.

    With flowers and wine,
    And cakes divine,
To strike me I will tempt thee:
    Which done; no more
    I'll come before
Thee and thine altars empty.

Robert Herrick

Not To Love.

He that will not love must be
My scholar, and learn this of me:
There be in love as many fears
As the summer's corn has ears:
Sighs, and sobs, and sorrows more
Than the sand that makes the shore:
Freezing cold and fiery heats,
Fainting swoons and deadly sweats;
Now an ague, then a fever,
Both tormenting lovers ever.
Would'st thou know, besides all these,
How hard a woman 'tis to please,
How cross, how sullen, and how soon
She shifts and changes like the moon.
How false, how hollow she's in heart:
And how she is her own least part:
How high she's priz'd, and worth but small;
Little thou'lt love, or not at all.

Robert Herrick

A Hymn To Love

I will confess
With cheerfulness,
Love is a thing so likes me,
That, let her lay
On me all day,
I'll kiss the hand that strikes me.

I will not, I,
Now blubb'ring cry,
It, ah! too late repents me
That I did fall
To love at all,
Since love so much contents me.

No, no, I'll be
In fetters free;
While others they sit wringing
Their hands for pain,
I'll entertain
The wounds of love with singing.

With flowers and wine,
And cakes divine,
To strike me I will tempt thee;
Which done, no more
I'll come before
Thee and thine altars empty.

Robert Herrick

On Love.

Love bade me ask a gift,
And I no more did move
But this, that I might shift
Still with my clothes my love:
That favour granted was;
Since which, though I love many,
Yet so it comes to pass
That long I love not any.

Robert Herrick