Some Glory In Their Birth, Some In Their Skill, Some In Their Wealth, Some In Their Body'S Force, Some In Their Garments Though New-Fangled Ill; Some In Their Hawks And Hounds, Some In Their Horse; And Every Humour Hath His Adjunct Pleasure, Wherein It Finds A Joy Above The Rest: But These Particulars Are Not My Measure, All These I Better In One General Best. Thy Love Is Better Than High Birth To Me, Richer Than Wealth, Prouder Than Garments' Costs, Of More Delight Than Hawks And Horses Be; And Having Thee, Of All Men'S Pride I Boast: Wretched In This Alone, That Thou Mayst Take All This Away, And Me Most Wretched Make.