[W.] <br /> <br />IF her disdain least change in you can move, <br />You do not love, <br />For when that hope gives fuel to the fire, <br />You sell desire. <br />Love is not love, but given free ; <br />And so is mine ; so should yours be. <br /> <br />[D.] <br /> <br />Her heart, that weeps to hear of others' moan, <br />To mine is stone. <br />Her eyes, that weep a stranger's eyes to see, <br />Joy to wound me. <br />Yet I so well affect each part, <br />As—caused by them—I love my smart. <br /> <br />[W.] <br /> <br />Say her disdainings justly must be graced <br />With name of chaste ; <br />And that she frowns lest longing should exceed, <br />And raging breed ; <br />So her disdains can ne'er offend, <br />Unless self-love take private end. <br /> <br />[D.] <br /> <br />'Tis love breeds love in me, and cold disdain <br />Kills that again, <br />As water causeth fire to fret and fume, <br />Till all consume. <br />Who can of love more rich gift make, <br />That to Love's self for love's own sake? <br /> <br />I'll never dig in quarry of an heart <br />To have no part, <br />Nor roast in fiery eyes, which always are <br />Canicular. <br />Who this way would a lover prove, <br />May show his patience, not his love. <br /> <br />A frown may be sometimes for physic good, <br />But not for food ; <br />And for that raging humour there is sure <br />A gentler cure. <br />Why bar you love of private end, <br />Which never should to public tend?<br /><br />John Donne<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-dialogue-between-sir-henry-wootton-and-mr-donne/
