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' cost, Of more delight than Hawks or 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 wretched make.
