Whatsoever thing I see,
Rich or poor although it be,
—'Tis a mistress unto me.
Be my girl or fair or brown,
Does she smile, or does she frown;
Still I write a sweet-heart down.
Be she rough, or smooth of skin;
When I touch, I then begin
For to let affection in.
Be she bald, or does she wear
Locks incurl'd of other hair;
I shall find enchantment there.
Be she whole, or be she rent,
So my fancy be content,
She's to me most excellent.
Be she fat, or be she lean;
Be she sluttish, be she clean;
I'm a man for every scene.
103. UPON LOVE
I held Love's head while it did ache;
But so it chanced to be,
The cruel pain did his forsake,
And forthwith came to me.
Ai me! how shall my grief be still'd?
Or where else shall we find
One like to me, who must be kill'd
For being too-too-kind?
104. TO DIANEME
I could but see thee yesterday
Stung by a fretful bee;
And I the javelin suck'd away,
And heal'd the wound in thee.
A thousand thorns, and briars, and stings
I have in my poor breast;
Yet ne'er can see that salve which brings
My passions any rest.
As Love shall help me, I admire
How thou canst sit and smile
To see me bleed, and not desire
To staunch the blood the while.
If thou, composed of gentle mould,
Art so unkind to me;
What dismal stories will be told
Of those that cruel be!
105. TO PERENNA
When I thy parts run o'er, I can't espy
In any one, the least indecency;
But every line and limb diffused thence
A fair and unfamiliar excellence;
So that the more I look, the more I prove
There's still more cause why I the more should love.