LOVE is a sickness full of woes, br    All remedies refusing; br A plant that with most cutting grows, br    Most barren with best using. br    Why so? br br More we enjoy it, more it dies; br If not enjoy'd, it sighing cries-- br    Heigh ho! br br Love is a torment of the mind, br    A tempest everlasting; br And Jove hath made it of a kind br    Not well, nor full nor fasting.