Song XCII., pp.342-343.

[Tea-Table Miscellany Contents]

SHall I, wasting in despair, 

Die because a woman’s fair? 

Shall my cheeks look pale with care, 

‘Cause another’s rosie are? 

Be she fairer than the day, 

Or the flow’ry meads in May; 

Yet if she think not well of me, 

What care I how fair she be. 

– 

Shall a woman’s goodness move 

Me to perish for her love; 

Or, her worthy merits known, 

Make me quite forget my own? 

Be she with that goodness blest, 

As may merit name the best; 

Yet if she be not such to me, 

What care I how good she be. 

– 

Be she good, or kind, or fair, 

I will never more despair; 

If she love me, this believe, 

I will die e’er she shall grieve; 

If she slight me when I woo, 

I will scorn, and let her go: 

So if she be not fit for me, 

What care I for whom she be. 

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