Classic Poem

Wrong not sweet Empresse of my soule
the meritts of true passion
By thinking that he feeles no smart
that sues for no Compassion:

And if words seeke not to prove
the Conquest of your beauty,
It comes not from defect of love
but from excesse of dutye.

For seeing that I sue to serve
a Saint of such perfeccion
As all desire, but none deserve
a place in her affection.

I rather Chuse to want reliefe
then venture the revealing
Since glory recommends the Griefe
despayre distrusts the healing.

Thus those desires that ayme to high
for any mortall lover,
When reason cannot make them dye
discrecion doth them cover.

But when discrecion doth bereave
the pl[ain]ts that they should utter,
Then thy discrecion may perceive
that Silence is a Suito.

Silence in love bewrayes more woe
then words though nere so witty:
The Beggar that is dumbe you knowe
deserveth double pitty.

Then doe not wrong (Queen of my heart),
My true though secret passion,
He smarteth most that hydes his Smart
and sues for noe compassion.