Classic Poem

Love who will, for I 'll love none,
—There 's fools enough besides me:
Yet if each woman have not one,
—Come to me where I hide me,
And if she can the place attain,
For once I 'll be her fool again.

It is an easy place to find,
—And women sure should know it;
Yet thither serves not every wind,
—Nor many men can show it:
It is the storehouse, where doth lie
All women's truth and constancy.

If the journey be so long,
—No woman will adventer;
But dreading her weak vessel's wrong,
—The voyage will not enter:
Then may she sigh and lie alone,
In love with all, yet loved of none.

Love who will, for I 'll love none,
—There 's fools enough besides me:
Yet if each woman have not one,
—Come to me where I hide me,
And if she can the place attain,
For once I 'll be her fool again.

It is an easy place to find,
—And women sure should know it;
Yet thither serves not every wind,
—Nor many men can show it:
It is the storehouse, where doth lie
All women's truth and constancy.

If the journey be so long,
—No woman will adventer;
But dreading her weak vessel's wrong,
—The voyage will not enter:
Then may she sigh and lie alone,
In love with all, yet loved of none.