Herbert J.C. Grierson, ed. (1886–1960). Metaphysical Lyrics & Poems of the 17th C. 1921.

1609–1642 Sir John Suckling

Sonnet

OF thee (kind boy) I ask no red and white

to make up my delight,

no odd becomming graces,

Black eyes, or little know-not-whats, in faces;

Make me but mad enough, give me good store

Of Love, for her I court,

I ask no more,

’Tis love in love that makes the sport.

There’s no such thing as that we beauty call,

it is meer cousenage all;

for though some long ago

Like ’t certain colours mingled so and so,

That doth not tie me now from chusing new,

If I a fancy take

To black and blue,

That fancy doth it beauty make.

Tis not the meat, but ’tis the appetite

makes eating a delight,

and if I like one dish

More then another, that a Pheasant is;

What in our watches, that in us is found,

So to the height and nick

We up be wound,

No matter by what hand or trick.