Classic Poem

I wage no warr, yet peace I none enjoy;
I hope, I feare, I fry in freesing colde;
I mount in mirth, still prostrate in annoye;
I all the worlde imbrace yet nothing holde.
All welth is want where chefest wishes fayle,
Yea life is loath'd where love may not prevayle.

For that I love I long, but that I lacke;
That others love I loath, and that I have;
All worldly fraightes to me are deadly wracke,
Men present happ, I future hopes do crave:
They, loving where they live, long life require,
To live where best I love, death I desire.

Here love is lent for loane of filthy gayne;
Most frendes befrende themselves with frendshipp's shewe;
Here plenty perill, want doth breede disdayne;
Cares comon are, joyes falty, shorte and fewe;
Here honour envyde, meanesse is dispis'd;
Synn deemed solace, vertue little prisde.

Here bewty is a bayte that, swallowed, choakes,
A treasure sought still to the owner's harmes;
A light that eyes to murdring sightes provokes,
A grace that soules enchaunts with mortall charmes;
A luringe ayme to Cupid's fiery flightes,
A balefull blisse that damnes where it delightes.

O who would live so many deaths to trye?
Where will doth wish that wisdome doth reprove,
Where Nature craves that grace must nedes denye,
Where sence doth like that reason cannot love,
Where best in shewe in finall proofe is worste,
Where pleasures uppshott is to dye accurste.