Answer to Master Wither's Song, "Shall I, Wasting in Despair?"

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?

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?

Shall a woman's vices make Me her vices quite forsake? Or her faults to me made known, Make me think that I have none? Be she of the most accurst, And deserve the name of worst! If she be not so to me, What care I how bad she be?

'Cause her fortunes seem too low, Shall I therefore let her go? He that bears an humble mind And with riches can be kind, Think how kind a heart he'd have, If he were some servile slave! And if that same mind I see What care I how poor she be?

Poor, or bad, or curst, or black, I will ne'er the more be slack! If she hate me (then believe!) She shall die ere I will grieve! If she like me when I woo I can like and love her too! If that she be fit for me! What care I what others be?