Classic Poem

Why should I love, when I am loathed still?
And praise her still, who seekes me to dispraise?
Why should grave reason yeelde to headstrong will,
My Griefes the more to multiplie and raise.
 I doe commit Idolatrie extreme
 With her, whom I should rather right blaspheme.

Fire if it warme not, for no Fire we deeme,
The Sunne, no Sunne we count, except it shine,
Water, no water, but it wet doe seeme,
Vertue, no vertue, lest it show some signe;
 No Woman is she, thats not pitifull,
 Rather Prides Spaune , a nice disdaineful Trull

Have I transgrest the Boundes of Modestie?
Whispering undecent speeches in her Eare,
Or have I (ere) assailde her Chastitie,
And sought the spoyle thereof away to beare?
 If I have shamde my self in such grosse wise,
 Why then she reason hath me to despise.

Ah, no, far be it from my harmeles Thought,
Such base unseemely tricks to her to move,
A matter small it was (God knowes) I sought,
Onely to be Retainer to her Love .
 No scandall t'is, t'is no Disparagement,
 Service t'accept, where naught but Honors ment.