University of Virginia Library

MASTER JOHNSON'S ANSWER TO MASTER WITHERS.

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The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Withers.
Shall I wasting in despair
Die because a woman's fair,
Or my cheeks make pale with care
'Cause another's rosy are?
Be she fairer than the day,
Or the flowery meads in May,
If she be not so to me,
What care I how fair she be?

Johnson.
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?

Withers.
Shall my foolish heart be pined,
'Cause I see a woman's kind,
Or a well-disposed nature
Joined in a comely feature?
Be she kind or meeker than
Turtle-dove or pelican,
If she be not so to me,
What care I how kind she be?

Johnson.
Shall my foolish heart be brust
'Cause I see a woman's curst,
Or a thwarting hoggish nature
Joined in as bad a feature?
Be she curst or fiercer then
Brutish beast or savage men,
If she [be] not so to me,
What care I how curst she be?

Withers.
Shall a woman's virtues make
Me to perish for her sake,
Or her merit's value known
Make me quite forget mine own?
Be she with that goodness blest
That may merit name of best,
If she seem not so to me,
What care I how good she be?

Johnson.
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?

Withers.
'Cause her fortunes seem too high,
Should I play the fool and die?
He that bears a noble mind
If not outward help he find,
Think what with them he would do
That without them dares to woo.
And unless that mind I see,
What care I how great she be?

Johnson.
'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?

Withers.
Great, or good, or kind, or fair,
I will ne'er the more despair;
If she love me, then believe
I will die, ere she shall grieve.
If she slight me when I woo,
I can slight and bid her go:
If she be not fit for me,
What care I for whom she be?

Johnson.
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?