Classic Poem

What art thou? what wouldst thou have? Ghost:
The shaddow of thy Lover,
That can take no rest in Grave
Till I my greife discover;
In thy Hart I hid a fire,
The fire of my true paineing
Which if thou hadst kept Intire
I had slept without complaining. She:
Fright me no more thou wandring ghost,
Turne back thy pale-fac'd greeving,
Thy fire went out with thee, not lost,
We live to love the living. Ghost:
Thy vowes are broake, once more take heed,
Thy faith shall be rewarded,
For cuzening me, thy Hart shall bleede,
Thy youth be unregarded. She:
What shall I doe? Ghost:
Call back thy vow,
Then sweetly take thy slumbers,
Else endless frights attend thee now,
And sighing without number,
I'le blast thy youth, & on thy Rosy spring
A dead cold winter, Lame & old Ile fling.
Then love to late. She:
O me, O me unfortunate,
Though thou be dead Ile love thee ever. Ghost:
Sleepe, sleepe, o sleepe, my ghost shall fright thee never. [Both]

Though fools secure may kill with their disdaine,
Time will at last reward them for their paine.
Harts that in Bonds of true Love linked be
Nor Time nor Death can sett at liberty.