Читать книгу A Parody Anthology - Wells Carolyn - Страница 7

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?