Some glory in their birth, some in their skill,
    Some in their wealth, some in their bodies’ 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.

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