_Spite of his spite, which that in vain
Doth seek to force my fantasy,
I am professed for loss or gain,
To be thine own assuredly;
Wherefore let my father spite[334] and spurn,
My fantasy will never turn!
Although my father of busy wit
Doth babble still, I care not tho;
I have no fear, nor yet will flit,
As doth the water to and fro;
Wherefore let my father spite and spurn,
My fantasy will never turn!
For I am set and will not swerve,
Whom spiteful speech removeth nought;
And since that I thy grace deserve,
I count it is not dearly bought;
Wherefore let my father spite and spurn,
My fantasy will never turn!
Who is afraid, let you him fly,
For I shall well abide the brunt;
Maugre to his lips that listeth to lie,
Of busy brains as is the wont;
Wherefore let my father spite and spurn,
My fantasy will never turn!
Who listeth thereat to laugh or lour,[335]
I am not he that ought doth rech;[336]
There is no pain that hath the power
Out of my breast your love to fetch;
Wherefore let my father spite and spurn,
My fantasy will never turn!
For whereas he moved me to the school,
And only to follow my book and learning:
He could never make me such a fool,
With all his soft words and fair speaking;
Wherefore let my father spite and spurn,
My fantasy will never turn!
This minion here, this mincing[337] trull,[338]
Doth please me more a thousandfold,
Than all the earth that is so full
Of precious stones, silver and gold;
Wherefore let my father spite and spurn,
My fantasy will never turn!
Whatsoever I did it was for her sake,
It was for her love and only pleasure;
I count it no labour such labour to take,
In getting to me so high a treasure;
Wherefore, let my father spite and spurn,
My fantasy will never turn!
This day I intended for to be merry,
Although my hard father be far hence,
I know no cause for to be heavy,
For all this cost and great expense;
Wherefore let my father spite and spurn,
My fantasy will never turn!_
YOUNG MAN. How like ye this song, my own sweet rose?
Is it well made for our purpose?