The Singers' Companion ("Farewell! but whenever you welcome the hour", etc.)/Should he upbraid

Should he upbraid, I'll own that he'd prevail,
And sing as sweetly as the nightingale;
Say that he frown, I'll say his looks I view
As mornin roses newly tipped with dew;
Say he be mute, I'll answer with a smile,
And dance, and play, and wrinkled care beguile.