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 flowery meads in May,
If she thinks not well of me
What care I how fair she be ?
Shall my foolish heart be pined
’Cause I see a woman kind；
Or a well disposed nature
Joined 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 mine own ?
Be she with that goodness blest
Which may merit name of best,
If she be not such to me,
What care I how good she be ?
’Cause her fortune seems so high,
Shall I play the fool and die ?
She that bears a noble mind
If not outward helps she find,
Thinks what with them he would do
Who without them dares her 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 ?