From Robert Herrick‘s Hesperides (number 38, text from the 2013 edition of The Complete Poetry by Tom Cain and Ruth Connolly):
TO HIS MISTRESS OBJECTING TO HIM NEITHER TOYING OR TALKING
You say I love not, ’cause I do not play
Still with your curles, and kisse the time away.
You blame me too, because I cann’t devise
Some sport, to please those Babies in your eyes:
By Loves Religion, I must here confesse it,
The most I love, when I the least expresse it.
Small griefs find tongues: Full Casques are ever found
To give (if any, yet) but little sound.
Deep waters noyse-lesse are; And this we know,
That chiding streams betray small depth below.
So when Love speechlesse is, she doth expresse
A depth in love, and that depth, bottomlesse.
Now since my love is tongue-lesse, know me such,
Who speak but little ’cause I love so much.
And for a change of pace, number 5 of the collection
Another [to his booke]
Who with thy leaves shall wipe (at need)
The place, where swelling Piles do breed:
May every Ill, that bites, or smarts,
Perplexe him in his hinder-parts.