I pray thee, leave, love me no more,
Call home
the heart you gave me!
I but in vain that saint adore
That can but will not save me.
These poor
half-kisses kill me quite--
Was ever man thus
served?
Amidst an ocean of delight
For pleasure
to be starved?
Show me no more those snowy breasts
With azure riverets branched,
Where, whilst
mine eye with plenty feasts,
Yet is my thirst not
stanched;
O Tantalus, thy pains ne'er tell!
By
me thou art prevented:
'Tis nothing to be plagued in Hell,
But thus in Heaven tormented.
Clip me no more
in those dear arms,
Nor thy life's comfort call me,
O these are but too powerful charms,
And do but
more enthral me!
But
see how patient I am grown
In all this coil about thee:
Come, nice thing, let
thy heart alone,
I cannot live without thee!