I am two fooles, I know, For loving, and for saying so In whining Poëtry; But where's that wiseman, that would not be I, If she would not deny? 5 Then as th'earths inward narrow crooked lanes Do purge sea waters fretfull salt away, I thought, if I could draw my paines, Through Rimes vexation, I should them allay, Griefe brought to numbers cannot be so fierce, 10 For, he tames it, that fetters it in verse. But when I have done so, Some man, his art and voice to show, Doth Set and sing my paine, And, by delighting many, frees againe 15 Griefe, which verse did restraine. To Love, and Griefe tribute of Verse belongs, But not of such as pleases when'tis read, Both are increased by such songs: For both their triumphs so are published, 20 And I, which was two fooles, do so grow three; Who are a little wise, the best fooles bee. [The triple Foole. _1633-69_, _A18_, _L74_, _N_, _TCC_, _TCD:_ Song _or no title_, _B_, _Cy_, _D_, _H40_, _H49_, _HN_, _JC_, _Lec_, _O'F_, _P_, _S_, _S96_] [4 the wiser man, _1669_] [5 If he should not deny? _P_] [6 narrow _om._ _P:_ crooked _om._ _B_ lanes] vaines _Cy_, _P_] [9 allay, _1633-39:_ allay. _1650-69_, _Chambers_] [10 numbers] number _1669_] [11 For, he tames it] He tames it much _B_] [13 and] or _1669_] _Lovers infinitenesse._ If yet I have not all thy love, Deare, I shall never have it all, I cannot breath one other sigh, to move, Nor can intreat one other teare to fall, And all my treasure, which should purchase thee, 5 Sighs, teares, and oathes, and letters I have spent. Yet no more can be due to mee, Then at the bargaine made was ment, If then thy gift of love were partiall, That some to mee, some should to others fall, 10 Deare, I shall never have Thee All. Or if then thou gavest mee all, All was but All, which thou hadst then; But if in thy heart, since, there be or shall, New love created bee, by other men, 15 Which have their stocks intire, and can in teares, In sighs, in oathes, and letters outbid mee, This new love may beget new feares, For, this love was not vowed by thee. And yet it was, thy gift being generall, 20 The ground, thy heart is mine, what ever shall Grow there, deare, I should have it all.