Classic Poem

What fury does disturb my rest?
What hell is this within my breast?
Now I abhor, and now I love;
And each an equal torment prove.
I see Celinda's cruelty,
I see she loves all men but me,
I see her falsehood, see her pride,
I see ten thousand faults beside,
I see she sticks at nought that's ill;
Yet, oh ye powers! I love her still.
Others on precipices run,
Which, blind with love, they cannot shun:
I see my danger, see my ruin;
Yet seek, yet court, my own undoing;
And each new reason I explore
To hate her, makes me love her more.