Classic Poem

When last (deere mistris) I with you did feast,
A flea (that with your blood was ouer-growne,
Walking abroade her dinner to digest)
Did skipp to mee, to make you so mine owne
Which when I had, away with her I went.
And sith you are in her, her well intreate:
Yea with my bloud I giue her nourrishment:
So with our blouds (thus mixt) I make you great
Since when, I do forbeare to murder fleas,
Least that (vnkinde) our yong I so might spill:
And for your sake I let them bite, with ease,
Sith so they ioyne and multiply vs still
And thus do fleas that spott mee eu'ry where,
Suck my ranck bloud to make affection cleare.