A Dialogue Betwixt Cordanus And Amoret, On A Lost Heart

Cord.    Distressed pilgrim, whose dark clouded eyes

          Speak thee a martyr to love's cruelties,

          Whither away?

Amor.                      What pitying voice I hear,

          Calls back my flying steps?

Cord.                          Pr'ythee, draw near.

Amor.    I shall but say, kind swain, what doth become

          Of a lost heart, ere to Elysium

          It wounded walks?

Cord.                      First, it does freely flye

          Into the pleasures of a lover's eye;

          But, once condemn'd to scorn, it fetter'd lies,

          An ever-bowing slave to tyrannies.

Amor.    I pity its sad fate, since its offence

          Was but for love.  Can tears recall it thence?

Cord.    O no, such tears, as do for pity call,

          She proudly scorns, and glories at their fall.

Amor.    Since neither sighs nor tears, kind shepherd, tell,

          Will not a kiss prevail?

Cord.                          Thou may'st as well

          Court Eccho with a kiss.

Amor.                          Can no art move

          A sacred violence to make her love?

Cord.    O no! 'tis only Destiny or Fate

          Fashions our wills either to love or hate.

Amor.    Then, captive heart, since that no humane spell

          Hath power to graspe thee his, farewell.

Cord. Farewell.

Cho.      Lost hearts, like lambs drove from their folds by fears,

          May back return by chance, but not by tears.]