GEORGE WITHER

Thinks what with them he would do That without them dares her woo ; And unless that mind I see, What care I how 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 ?

��238. The Choice

A I( E so oft my fancy drew

"*** Here and there, that I ne'er knew

Where to place desire before

So that range it might no more;

But as he that passeth by

Where, in all her jollity,

Flora's riches in a row

Do in seemly order grow,

And a thousand flowers stand

Bending as to kiss his hand ;

Out of which delightful store

One he may take and no more ;

Long he pausing doubteth whether

Of those fair ones he should gather.

First the Primrose courts his eyes, Then the Cowslip he espies;

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