Shall I like an ermit well?
HALL I like an hermit dwell,
On a rock, or in a cell?
Calling home the smallest part
That is missing of my heart,
To bestow it where I may
Meet a rival every day?
If she undervalues me,
What care I how fair she be?
Were her tresses angel-gold;
If a stranger may be bold,
Unrebuked, unafraid,
To convert them to a braid,
And, with little more ado,
Work them into bracelets too :
It the mine be grown so free,
What care I how rich it be?
Were her hands as rich a prize
As her hairs, or precious eyes,
If she lay them out to take
Kisses for good manners' sake,
And let every lover skip
From her hand unto her lip:
If she seem not chaste to me,
What care I how chaste she be?
No; she must be perfect snow,
In effect as well as show,
Warming but as snowballs do,
Not like fire, by burning too :
But when she, by change, hath got
To her heart a second lot,
Then, if others share with me,
Farewell her, whate'er she be !