Classic Poem

At my harte there is a paine.
Neuer paine so pincht my hart;
More then halfe with sorrowe slaine
And the paine will yitt not part

Oh my harte how it dothe bleede
Into droppes of bitter teares!
While my faithfull loue dothe feede
But on fancyes only feares.

Ah poore loue why dost thow liue?
Thus to see thie service loste;
If she will no comforte giue
Make an end, giue vp the ghoste

That she may at last approue
That shee hardly long beleued;
That the hart will die for love
That is not in time releived

Oh that euer I was borne
Service so to be refusèd;
Faithfull loue to be forlorne
Neuer loue was so abusèd.

But sweete loue, be still a while
She that hurte the soone may heale the;
Sweete I see within her smile
More then reason can reveale thee.

For thoughe shee bee riche and faire
Yitt is she both wise and kinde;
And therfore doe not dispaire
But thy faithe may favor finde.

And althoughe shee be a Queene
That maie suche a make despise;
Yitt with silénce all vnseene
Run and hide thee in her eyes.

Wher if she will lett the dye
Yitt at latest gaspe of breathe
Say that in a ladyes eye
Loue both tooke his lif and deathe.