Classic Poem

Goe muse vnto the bower, whereas the mistress dwelles,
And tell her of her servaunte's loue but tell her nothing ells;
And speake but in her eare, that none maie heare but she,
That if she not the sooner helpe there is no helpe for me.
Not that I feare to speake, but it is straunge to heare
That she will neuer looke on him, that howldes her loue so deere.
Perhaps she knows it not, or if she doe, she will not,
Yet let her kindnes haue a care that thoughe she hurte she kill not;
And thoughe it be so straunge, yet let her this beleue me
That dead men lyve yet I am dead yet liue if she releue me
For yet are not so coulde the coles of kinde desire,
But in the ashes liues a sparke to kindle love a fyer;
W ch fier his fuell hathe but from those fairest eies,
Where faithe doth burne and fauncie flame, and fauor neuer dyes.