I pr'ythee send me back my heart,
Since I can not have thine;
For if from yours you will not part,
Why then should'st thou have mine?
Yet now I think on't, let it lie;
To find it, were in vain:
For thou'st a thief in either eye
Would steal it back again.
Why should two hearts in one breast lie,
And yet not lodge together?
O love! where is thy sympathy,
If thus our breasts you sever?
But love is such a mystery
I can not find it out;
For when I think I'm best resolved,
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 has mine.