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,

Shall my foolish heart be pined

’Cause I see a woman kind;

Or a well-disposÉd nature

JoinÉd with a lovely feature?

Be she meeker, kinder, than

Turtle-dove or pelican,

Shall a woman’s virtues move

Me to perish for her love?

Or her merit’s value known

Make me quite forget my own?

Be she with that goodness blest

Which may gain her name of Best,

’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

Who without them dare to woo;

Great or good, or kind or fair,

I will ne’er the more despair;

If she loves me, this believe,

I will die ere she shall grieve;

If she slight me when I woo,

I can scorn and let her go;