They say you're angry, and rant mightily
Because I love the same as you
Alas! you're very rich, 'tis true
But prithee, fool! what's that to love and me?
You've lands and money, let that serve
And know you're more by that than you deserve

When next I see my fair one, she shall know
How worthless thou art of her bed;
And wretch! I'll strike thee dumb and dead
With noble verse not understood by you;
Whilst thy sole rhet'ric shall be
"Jointure" and "jewels" and "our friends agree."

Pox of your friends that dote and domineer
Lovers are better friends than they;
Let's those in other things obey
The fates, and stars, and gods must govern here
Vain names of blood! in love let none
Advise with any blood but with their own

'Tis that which bids me this bright maid adore
No other thought has had access!
Did she now beg, I'd love no less
And were she an empress, I should love no more;
Were she as just and true to me
Ah, simple soul! what would become of thee?