Classic Poem

Foole that I am, to seem so passionate
In that which Wiues, and Woes, and Years haue cal'md
Why, now should Venus know my Bodies State?
Or, with her Balsamum my Wounds be Balm'd?
No more, no more: it is ynough that I
Haue won Repentance, with the losse of Tyme,
In running o're these Rules of Vanity:
And not repeate them, erst in Rules of Rime.
Now, many winters baue Frost-bit my Haires,
Congeal'd my Bloud, and cool'd my vitall Heat,
I, youthful follies should ore'flow with Teares:
And, make a Rod of Rue my selfe to beate:
But, trust me Loue, how ere I write of Thee,
I am in hate with thee, and thou with me.