Classic Poem

What have I thus betrayed my libertie?
Can those blacke beames such burning markes engrave
In my free side? or am I borne a slave,
Whose necke becomes such yoke of tyranny?

Or want I sense to feele my miserie?
Or spirite, disdaine of such disdaine to have?
Who for long faith, tho dayly helpe I crave,
May get no almes but scorne of beggerie.

Vertue awake, Beautie but beautie is,
I may, I must, I can, I will do
Leave following that, which it is gaine to misse,

Let her go: soft, but here she comes, go to,
Unkind, I love you not: O me, that eye
Doth make my heart give to my tongue the lie.