The Indifferent

• I can love both fair and brown,
• Her whom abundance melts, and her whom want betrays,
• Her who loves loneness best, and her who masks and plays,
• Her whom the country formed, and whom the town,
• Her who believes, and her who tries,
• Her who still weeps with spongy eyes,
• And her who is dry cork, and never cries;
• I can love her, and her, and you, and you,
• I can love any, so she be not true.
• Will no other vice content you?
• Will it not serve your turn to do as did your mothers?
• Or have you old vices spent, and now would find out others?
• Or doth a fear, that men are true, torment you?
• Oh we are not, be not you so;
• Let me, and do you, twenty know.
• Rob me, but bind me not, and let me go.
• Must I, who came to travel thorough you,
• Grow your fixed subject, because you are true?
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• Venus heard me sigh this song,
• And by Love's sweetest part, Variety, she swore
• She heard not this till now; and that it should be so no more.
• She went, examined, and returned ere long,
• And said, “Alas, some two or three
• Poor heretics in love there be,
• Which think to 'stablish dangerous constancy.
• But I have told them, Since you will be true,
• You shall be true to them who're false to you.”