Ben Jonson. Answer to Master Wither's Song, Shall I, wasting in despair.
Reading edition
[Which Song originally appeared in the privately printed edition of Fidelia, in 1617; and was incorporated, with some variations in the text, in Fair Virtue in 1622, as may be seen at p. 454. Jonson's Parody was printed in a very rare Collection, entitled A Description of Love: with certain Epigrams, Elegies, and Sonnets, &c., the Second Edition of which was printed in 1620. We have here used a copy of the Sixth Edition of 1629, in the British Museum; press mark, C. 39. a.]
Wither.
Shall I, wasting in despair, Die, because a woman's Fair? Or my cheeks make pale with care, 'Cause another's rosy are? Be She fairer than the Day, Or the flowery meads in May! If She be not so to me, What care I, how Fair She be?
Jonson.
Shall I, mine affections slack, 'Cause I see a woman's Black? Or myself, with care cast down, 'Cause I see a woman brown? Be She blacker than the night, Or the blackest jet in sight! If She be not so to me, What care I, how Black She be?
Wither.
Should my foolish heart be pined, 'Cause I see a woman Kind? Or a well disposèd nature Joinèd with a comely feature? Be She kind, or meeker than Turtle dove, or pelican! If She be not so to me, What care I, how Fair She be?
Jonson.
Shall my foolish heart be burst, 'Cause I see a woman's curst? Or a thwarting hoggish nature Joinèd in as bad a feature? Be She curst, or fiercer than Brutish beast, or savage man! If She be not so to me, What care I, how Curst She be?
Wither.
Shall a woman's virtues make Me to perish for her sake? Or her merits' value known, Make me quite forget mine own? Be She with that Goodness blest Which may merit name of Best! If She seem not so to me, What care I, how Good She be?
Jonson.
Shall a woman's vices make Me her vices quite forsake? Or her faults to me make known, Make me think that I have none? Be She of the most accurst, And deserve the name of worst! If She be not so to me, What care I, how Bad She be?
Wither.
'Cause her fortunes seem too high, Should I play the fool, and die? He that bears a noble mind, If not outward help he find; Think, what, with them, he would do; That, without them, dares to woo! And unless that mind I see, What care I, how Great She be?
Jonson.
'Cause her fortunes seem too low, Shall I therefore let her go? He that bears an humble mind And with riches can be kind. Think how kind a heart he'd have, If he were some servile slave! And if that same mind I see, What care I, how Poor She be?
Wither.
Great, or Good, or Kind, or Fair, I will ne'er the more despair! If She love me (then believe!) I will die, ere She shall grieve! If She slight me, when I woo; I can scorn, and let her go! For if She be not for me! What care I, for whom She be?
Jonson.
Poor, or Bad, or Curst, or Black, I will ne'er the more be slack! If she hate me (then believe!) She shall die, ere I will grieve! If She like me, when I woo; I can like and love her too! If that She be fit for me! What care I, what others be?
