To his Rival — John Suckling

Now we have taught our love to knowThat it must creep where 't cannot go,

And be for once content to live,Since here it cannot have to thrive;It will not be amiss t' enquire5What fuel should maintain this fire:For fires do either flame too high,Or, where they cannot flame they die.First then (my half but better heart)Know this must wholly be her part;10(For thou and I, like clocks, are woundUp to the height, and must move round):She then, by still denying whatWe fondly crave, shall such a rateSet on each trifle, that a kiss15Shall come to be the utmost bliss.Where sparks and fire do meet with tinder,Those sparks mere fire will still engender:To make this good, no debt shall beFrom service or fidelity;20For she shall ever pay that score,By only bidding us do more:So (though she still a niggard be)In gracing, where none's due, she's free.The favours she shall cast on us,25(Lest we should grow presumptuous)Shall not with too much love be shown,Nor yet the common way still done;But ev'ry smile and little glanceShall look half lent, and half by chance:30The ribbon, fan, or muff that sheWould should be kept by thee or me,Should not be giv'n before too many,But neither thrown to 's, when there's any;So that herself should doubtful be35Whether 'twere fortune flung 't, or she.She shall not like the thing we doSometimes, and yet shall like it too;Nor any notice take at allOf what, we gone, she would extol.40Love she shall feed, but fear to nourish;For, where fear is, love cannot flourish;Yet live it must, nay must and shall,While Desdemona is at all:But, when she's gone, then love shall die,45And in her grave buried lie.