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 wretchcd make.