Classic Poem

Dolus
Thou shalt not love mee, neither shall these eyes
Shine on my soule shrowded in deadly night.
Thou shalt not breath on me thy spiceryes
Nor rocke mee in the quavers of delight.
Hould of thy hands, for I had rather dye
Then have my life by thy coye touch reprived.
Smile not on me, but frowne thou bitterly;
Slaye me out right: no lovers are long liv'de.
As for those lippes reserv'd so much in store,
Their rosy verdure shall not meete with myne.
Withhould thy proude embracements evermore,
I'le not be swadled in those arms of thyne.
Now shew it if thou be a woman right:
Embrace and kisse and love mee in despight.