Canst thou love me, and yet doubt
so much Falshood in my heart,
that a way I should find out to impart
fragments of a broken Love to you,
more then all b'ing lesse then due:
O, no! Love must clear Distrust,
or be eaten with that Rust;
short Love liking may find Jarrs,
the Love that lasteth knows no Warrs.

There, Beliefe begets Delight,
And so satisfies Desire,
That in them it shines as Light
No more Fire;
All the burning Qualities appeas'd,
Each in others joying pleased,
Not a whisper; not a thought
But 'twixt Both in comon's brought,
Even to seem Two they are loath,
Love being only Soul to both.