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John Suckling - Song - No, no, fair heretic - from Aglaura
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No, no, fair heretic, it needs must be
But an ill love in me,
And worse for thee. 
For were it in my power
To love thee now this hour
More than I did the last,
`Twould then so fall
I might not love at all.
Love that can flow, and can admit increase,
Admits as well an ebb, and may grow less.
True love is still the same; the torrid zones
And those more frigid ones,
It must not know;
For love, grown cold or hot,
Is lust or friendship, not
The thing we have;
For that`s a flame would die,
Held down or up too high.
Then think I love more than I can express,
And would love more, could I but love thee less
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