“Love is a sickness”

Love is a sickness full of woes, All remedies refusing; A plant that most with cutting grows, Most barren with best using. Why so? More we enjoy it, more it dies; If not enjoyed, it sighing cries Heigh-ho! Love is a torment of the mind, A tempest everlasting; And Jove hath made it of a kind, Not well, nor full, nor fasting. Why so? More we enjoy it, more it dies; If not enjoyed, it sighing cries Heigh-ho!

Collection: 
1582
Sub Title: 
II. Love’s Nature

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Love is a sickness full of woes, All remedies refusing; A plant that most with cutting grows, Most barren with best using. Why so? More we enjoy it, more it dies; If not enjoyed, it sighing cries Heigh-ho! Love is a torment of the mind, A tempest everlasting; And Jove...

Love is a sickness full of woes,
All remedies refusing;
A plant that with most cutting grows,
Most barren with best using.
Why so?

More we enjoy it, more it dies;
If not enjoy'd, it sighing cries--
Heigh ho!

Love is a torment of the mind,
A...