Classic Poem

What others doth discourage and dismay
Is unto me a pastime and a play,
I sport in her denials and do know
Women love best that does love least in show.
Too sudden favours may abate delight;
When modest coyness sharps the appetite,
I grow the hotter for her cold neglect,
And more inflamed when she shows least respect.
Heat may arise from rocks; from flints so fire:
So from her coldness I do strike desire.
She, knowing this perhaps, resolves to try
My faith and patience, offering to deny
Whate'er I ask of her, that I may be
More taken with her, for her slighting me.
When fishes play with baits, best, anglers say,
To make them bite, is draw the bait away:
So dallies she with me till, to my smart,
Both bait and hook sticks fastened in my heart.
And now I am become her foolish prey,
And, that she knows I cannot break away,
Let her resolve no longer to be free
From Cupid's bonds, and bind herself to me.
Nor let her vex me longer with despair
That they be cruel that be young and fair:
It is the old, the creasèd, and the black
That are unkind and for affection lack.
I'll tie her eyes with lines, her ears with moans;
Her marble heart I'll pierce with hideous groans
That neither eyes, ears, heart shall be at rest
Till she forsake her sire to love me best;
Nor will I raise my siege nor leave my field
Till I have made my valiant mistress yield.