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 Flow'Ry Meads In May; If She Be Not So To Me, What Care I How Fair She Be. Should My Heart Be Grieved Or Pined 'Cause I See A Woman Kind? Or A Well-Dispos'D Nature Join'D With A Lovely Creature? Be She Meeker, Kinder Than Turtle-Dove Or Pelican: If She Be Not So To Me, What Care I How Kind She Be. Shall A Woman'S Virtues Move Me To Perish For Her Love? Or, Her Well-Deserving Known, Make Me Quite Forget Mine Own? Be She With That Goodness Blest Which May Gain Her Name Of Best If She Be Not Such To Me, What Care I How Good She Be. 'Cause Her Fortune Seems Too High, Shall I Play The Fool And Die? Those That Bear A Noble Mind, Where They Want Or Riches Find, Think What With Them They Would Do That Without Them Dare To Woo. And Unless That Mind I See, What Care I Though Great She Be. 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.