But when he thinks upon his debts, that thought destroys his pleasure.
Our courtier thinks that he's preferr'd, whom every man envies;15
When love so rumbles in his pate, no sleep comes in his eyes.
Our gallant's case is worst of all, he lies so just betwixt them;
For he's in love and he's in debt, and knows not which most vex him.
But he that can eat beef, and feed on bread which is so brown,
May satisfy his appetite, and owe no man a crown;20
And he that is content with lasses clothed in plain woollen,
May cool his heat in every place: he need not to be sullen,
Nor sigh for love of lady fair: for this each wise man knows—
As good stuff under flannel lies, as under silken clothes.
SONG
I prithee send me back my heart,
Since I cannot have thine:
For if from yours you will not part,
Why then shouldst thou have mine?
Yet now I think on't, let it lie:5
To find it were in vain,
For th' hast a thief in either eye
Would steal it back again.
Why should two hearts in one breast lie,
And yet not lodge together?10
O love, where is thy sympathy,
If thus our breasts thou sever?
But love is such a mystery,
I cannot find it out:
For when I think I'm best resolv'd,15
I then am in most doubt.
Then farewell care, and farewell woe,
I will no longer pine:
For I'll believe I have her heart
As much as she hath mine.20
