What care I?

When I was a teenager I read a poem that really spoke to me, so I wrote it out and posted it on the cork board above my desk. I’ve thought of it several times this week so I decided to look it up. It turns out to be made up of lines from a longer poem and I found it connected to at least two different people and two somewhat different poems so I honestly don’t know it’s correct origin. And I don’t love the original poem so I’m just going to post the part I’ve repeated in my head and million times or more:

If he think not well of me,
What care I how fair he be?
If he slight me when I woo,
I can scorn and let him go.
For if he be not for me,
What care I for whom he be?


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