Classic Poem

Cease, fond wretch, to love, so oft deluded,
Still made ritch with hopes, still unrelieved.
Now fly her delaies; she that debateth
Feeles not true desire; he that, deferred,
Others times attends, his owne betrayeth:
Learne t'affect thy selfe, thy cheekes deformed
With pale care revive by timely pleasure,
Or with skarlet heate them, or by paintings
Make thee lovely; for such arte she useth
Whome in vayne so long thy folly loved.