SHALL I, WASTING IN DESPAIR

Shall I, wasting in despair, Die because a woman's fair? Or make pale my cheeks with care 'Cause another's rosy are? Be she fairer than the day, Or the flow'ry meads in May, If she be not so to me, What care I how fair she be? Should my heart be griev'd or pin'd 'Cause I see a woman kind? Or a well-disposèd nature Joinèd with a lovely feature? Be she meeker, kinder than Turtle-dove or pelican, If she be not so to me, What care I how kind she be? Shall a woman's virtues move Me to perish for her love? Or her well-deservings, known, Make me quite forget my own? Be she with that goodness blest Which may gain her name of best, If she be not such to me, What care I how good she be? 'Cause her fortune seems too high, Shall I play the fool and die? Those that bear a noble mind, Where they want of riches find. Think what with them they would do That without them dare to woo; And unless that mind I see, What care I how great she be? Great, or good, or kind, or fair, I will ne'er the more despair; If she love me, this 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?