Classic Poem

XXI.
Where shall I refuge seeke, if you refuse mee?
In you my hope, in you my fortune lyes;
In you my life, though you unjust accuse me,
My service scorne, and merit underprise.
Oh bitter griefe, that exile is become
Reward for faith, and pittie deafe and dumbe.

Why should my firmnesse finde a seate so wav'ring?
My simple vowes, my love you entertain'd,
Without desert the same againe disfav'ring;
Yet I my word and passion hold unstain'd.
Oh wretched me, that my chiefe joy should breede
My onely griefe, and kindnesse pitty neede.
FINIS.