If this be love, to draw a weary breath, To paint on floods till the shore cry to th'air, With downward looks, still reading on the earth The sad memorials of my love's despair; If this be love, to war against my soul, Lie down to wail, rise up to sigh and grieve, The never-resting stone of care to roll, Still to complain my griefs whilst none relieve; If this be love, to clothe me with dark thoughts, Haunting untrodden paths to wail apart; My pleasures horror, music tragic notes, Tears in mine eyes and sorrow at my heart. If this be love, to live a living d**h, Then do I love and draw this weary breath.