Be she with that goodness blest,
Which may merit name of Best;
If she be not such to me,

What care I how good she be?

4 'Cause her fortune seems too high,

Shall I play the fool and die?
Those that bear a noble mind,
Where they want of riches find,
Think what with them they would do,
That without them dare to woo;

And, unless that mind I see,
What care I how great she be?

5 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:

If she be not fit for me,

What care I for whom she be?

THE STEADFAST SHEPHERD.

1 Hence away, thou Siren, leave me,

Pish! unclasp these wanton arms; Sugared words can ne'er deceive me, Though thou prove a thousand charms. Fie, fie, forbear;

No common snare

Can ever my affection chain:

Thy painted baits,

And poor deceits,

Are all bestowed on me in vain.

Let my life no longer be

Than I am in love with thee!

Though our wise ones call it madness,
Let me never taste of gladness
If I love not thy madd'st fits
Above all their greatest wits!

And though some, too seeming holy,
Do account thy raptures folly,

Thou dost teach me to contemn
What makes knaves and fools of them!

THE SHEPHERD'S RESOLUTION.

1 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 flowery meads in May;
If she be not so to me,

What care I how fair she be?

2 Shall my foolish heart be pined,
'Cause I see a woman kind?
Or a well-disposed nature
Joined with a lovely feature?
Be she meeker, kinder, than
The turtle-dove or pelican;

If she be not so to me,
What care I how kind she be?

3 Shall a woman's virtues move
Me to perish for her love?
Or, her well-deservings known,
Make me quite forget mine own?

Be she with that goodness blest,
Which may merit name of Best;
If she be not such to me,

What care I how good she be?

4 'Cause her fortune seems too high,

Shall I play the fool and die?
Those that bear a noble mind,
Where they want of riches find,
Think what with them they would do,
That without them dare to woo;

And, unless that mind I see,
What care I how great she be?

5 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:

If she be not fit for me,

What care I for whom she be?

THE STEADFAST SHEPHERD.

1 Hence away, thou Siren, leave me,

Pish! unclasp these wanton arms; Sugared words can ne'er deceive me, Though thou prove a thousand charms. Fie, fie, forbear;

2 I'm no slave to such as you be;

Neither shall that snowy breast,
Rolling eye, and lip of ruby,
Ever rob me of my rest:
Go, go, display
Thy beauty's ray

To some more soon enamoured swain:

Those common wiles

Of sighs and smiles
Are all bestowed on me in vain.

3 I have elsewhere vowed a duty;
Turn away thy tempting eye:
Show not me a painted beauty:
These impostures I defy:
My spirit loathes

Where gaudy clothes

And feigned oaths may love obtain:
I love her so,

Whose look swears No,

That all your labours will be vain.

4 Can he prize the tainted posies
Which on every breast are worn,
That may pluck the virgin roses
From their never-touched thorn?
I can go rest

On her sweet breast

That is the pride of Cynthia's train:
Then stay thy tongue,

Thy mermaid song

Is all bestowed on me in vain.

5 He's a fool that basely dallies,

Where each peasant mates with him: Shall I haunt the thronged valleys, Whilst there's noble hills to climb? No, no, though clowns

Are scared with frowns,

I know the best can but disdain;
And those I'll prove:

So will thy love

Be all bestowed on me in vain.

6 I do scorn to vow a duty

Where each lustful lad may woo;
Give me her whose sun-like beauty
Buzzards dare not soar unto:
She, she it is

Affords that bliss

For which I would refuse no pain:
But such as you,

Fond fools, adieu!

You seek to captive me in vain.

7 Leave me then, you Siren, leave me: Seek no more to work my harms:

Crafty wiles cannot deceive me,

Who am proof against your charms:

You labour may

To lead astray

The heart that constant shall remain;

And I the while

Will sit and smile

To see you spend your time in vain.