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 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.

For, if she be not for me,

What care I for whom she be.

I did woo,

And I courted Phillis too;

Daphne, for her love, I chose;

Cloris, for that damask rose

In her cheek, I held as dear;

Yea, a thousand liked well near.

And, in love with all together.

Fearèd the enjoying either;

'Cause to be of one possest,

Barred the hope of all the rest.

gentle sleep hath closèd up those eyes,

Which waking kept my boldest thoughts in awe,

And free access unto that sweet lip lies

From whence I long the rosy breath to draw.

Methinks no wrong it were if I should steal,

From those two melting rubies, one poor kiss.

None sees the theft that would the thief reveal,

Nor rob I her of aught which she can miss.

Nay, should I twenty kisses take away,

There would be little sign I had done so.

Why then should I this robbery delay?

Oh, she may wake, and therewith angry grow.

Well, if she do, I'll back restore that one,

And twenty hundred thousand more for loan.