He that cannot chuse but love, And strives against it still, Never shall my fancy move; For he loves 'gaynst his will; Nor he which is all his own, And can att pleasure chuse, When I am caught he can be gone, And when he list refuse. Nor he that loves none but faire, For such by all are sought; Nor he that can for foul ones care, For his Judgement then is nought: Nor he that hath wit, for he Will make me his jest or slave; Nor a fool, for when others . . . ., He can neither . . . . . . Nor he that still his Mistresse payes, For she is thrall'd therefore: Nor he that payes not, for he sayes Within, shee's worth no more. Is there then no kinde of men Whom I may freely prove? I will vent that humour then In mine owne selfe love. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SPELLIN' BEE by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR LANDSCAPE; TWILIGHT by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH IN APRIL by MARGARET LEE ASHLEY THE STEAM-ENGINE: CANTO 9. VISION OF THE WORLD by T. BAKER A LAY OF ST. DUNSTAN by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM TO THE SKYLARK by BERNARD BARTON |