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.