Part 4 (1/2)

Though of dainties you have store, To delight a choicer palate, Yet your taste is pleased no more Than is mine in one poor sallet.

You to please your senses feed But I eat good blood to breed; And am most delighted then When I spend it like a man.

Though you lord it over me, You in vain thereof have braved; For those l.u.s.ts my servants be Whereunto your minds are slaved.

To yourselves you wise appear, But, alas! deceived you are; You do foolish me esteem, And are that which I do seem.

When your faults I open lay, You are moved, and mad with vexing; But you ne'er could do or say Aught to drive me to perplexing.

Therefore, my despised power Greater is, by far, than your.

And, whate'er you think of me, In your minds you poorer be.

You are pleased, more or less, As men well or ill report you; And show discontentedness, When the times forbear to court you.

That in which my pleasures be, No man can divide from me; And my care it adds not to, Whatso others say or do.

Be not proud, because you view You by thousands are attended; For, alas! it is not you, But your fortune that's befriended.

Where I show of love have got, Such a danger fear I not: Since they nought can seek of me, But for love, beloved to be.

When your hearts have everything, You are pleasantly disposed: But I can both laugh and sing, Though my foes have me enclosed.

Yea, when dangers me do hem, I delight in scorning them, More than you in your renown, Or a king can in his crown.

You do bravely domineer, Whilst the sun upon you s.h.i.+neth: Yet, if any storm appear, Basely, then, your mind declineth.

But, or s.h.i.+ne, or rain, or blow, I my resolutions know-- Living, dying, thrall, or free, At one height my mind shall be.

When in thraldom I have lain, Me not worth your thought you prized; But your malice was in vain, For your favours I despised.

And, howe'er you value me, I with praise shall thought on be When the world esteems you not And your names shall be forgot.

In these thoughts my riches are; Now, though poor or mean you deem me, I am pleased, and do not care How the times or you esteem me.

For those toys that make you gay Are but play-games for a day: And when nature craves her due, I as brave shall be as you.

Song

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 flow'ry meads in May; If she be not so to me, What care I how fair she be.

Should my heart be grieved or pined 'Cause I see a woman kind?

Or a well-disposed nature Joined with a lovely creature?

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-deserving known, Make me quite forget mine own?

Be she with that goodness blest Which may gain her name of best If she be not such to me, What care I how good she be.

'Cause her fortune seems too high, Shall I play the fool and die?

Those that bear a n.o.ble mind, Where they want or riches find, Think what with them they would do That without them dare to woo.

And unless that mind I see, What care I though 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.