XXVII. Justly of thee, Love partial, I complain

Robert Tofte (1561–1620)

JUSTLY of thee, Love partial, I complain

That, at one instant and with one self stroke,

Thou dartèd hast into my heart, with pain,

Cold chilly frost; and fiery flaming smoke.

Ay me! within me, both I secret hold:

And whilst th’ one burns me, th’ other makes me cold.

Then, Cruel, since thou wilt, two contraries,

Against my soul, within my heart shall rest:

Ah, yet make peace ’twixt them, in loving wise!

Or else, sweet Love, do promise this at least!

Flame to my frost, and water to my fire;

Life to my heart, to comfort my desire.