75 Poem by Mary Wroth

Bveing past the paines of love,
Freedome gladly seekes to move:
Sayes that Loves delights were pretty;
But to dwell in them t'were pitty,

And yet truly sayes, that Love
Must of force in all hearts move:
But though his delights are pretty,
To dwell on them were a pitty.

Let Love slightly passe like Love,
Neuer let it too deepe move:
For though Loves delights are pretty,
To dwell in them were great pitty.

Loue no pitty hath of Love,
Rather griefes then pleasures move:
So though his delights are pretty,
To dwell in them would be pitty.

Those that like the smart of Love,
In them let it freely move:
Els though his delights are pretty,
Doe not dwell in them for pitty.