Shall I, mine affections slack,
'Cause I see a woman's Black?
Or myself, with care cast down,
'Cause I see a woman brown?
Be She blacker than the night,
Or the blackest jet in sight!
If She be not so to me,
What care I, how Black She be?
Wither.
Should my foolish heart be pined,
'Cause I see a woman Kind?
Or a well disposèd nature
Joinèd with a comely feature?
Be She kind, or meeker than
Turtle dove, or pelican!
If She be not so to me,
What care I, how Fair She be?
Jonson.
Shall my foolish heart be burst,
'Cause I see a woman's curst?
Or a thwarting hoggish nature
Joinèd in as bad a feature?
Be She curst, or fiercer than
Brutish beast, or savage man!
If She be not so to me,
What care I, how Curst She be?
Wither.
Shall a woman's virtues make
Me to perish for her sake?
Or her merits' value known,
Make me quite forget mine own?
Be She with that Goodness blest
Which may merit name of Best!
If She seem not so to me,
What care I, how Good She be?
Jonson.