Classic Poem

My fairest faire, aduise thee with thy heart,
And tell in time if that thou think'st to loue me,
Lest that I perish whil'st thou think'st to proue me,
And so thou want the meanes to act thy part:
For I account my selfe so done accurst,
That from despaire's refuge I scarce refraine.
The daintiest colours do the soonest staine,
And the most noble minds do soonest burst.
Why shouldst thou thus thy rarest treasure venter?
Lo, all the waightie thoughts, the burd'nous cares,
And euery horror that the health impaires,
Draw to the heart, as to the bodie's center:
And it ore-ballanc'd with so great a waight,
Doth boast to yeeld vnto the burthen straight.