Classic Poem

In a field full fayer of flowers,
Where the Muses made their bowers,
And more sweeter hony grew
Then the sence of Nature knew,
Preevie sweete with hartsease springing,
While sweete Philomel was singing,
Coridon and Phillis fayer
Went abroad to take the ayer —
Each in absence long diseased,
But in presence either pleased —
Where begun their pritle pratle,
Ther was prety title tatle.
" Coridon," quoth she, " a tryall
Must, in truth, haue no deniall,"
" True," quoth he; and then he proued,
" Well, I hope [I] shall be loued."
" Yea," quoth shee, " but where is true loue?"
" Where," quoth hee, " both I and you loue"
" Yea," quoth shee, " but truly tell me,
And in these few letters spell me
CORIDON,
Where was I when these were gon?"
" Sweet," quoth hee, " how to deuise the,
And by letters to suffice the,
PHILLIS
All my ioye both was and is?
In my hart thou art inclosed,
Where thy loue cannot be losed.
Trust me, Phillis, in good sadnes,
Is it not a very madnes
To refuse a good thing offered
When it was of good will proffered?
And what better thing to prooue
Then how good a thing is loue?
Many a wench, and if shee knew it,
What it were and how to vse it,
In her hart full soone would rue it,
When shee thought shee did refuse it
It is a humoure that doth tickle,
And like thistle downe doth prickle
Veines and sinnewes, witts and senses,
With the sweete of such deffenses
Which dame Nature gaue to me
Onely to bestowe on thee
Take it duly, euen and morrowe,
It will driue out care and sorrowe;
Vse it kindly, sweetly trie it,
Then vnto thine hart applye it."