Classic Poem

The lover, wearied with a number of delayes, sues unto his Ladie for pitie, or otherwise her speedie denyall, by death to worke a speedie dispatch of his languishing dayes.

If pitie may prevaile to pearse your hart with ruth,
Sweete maisters, lend your liftning eare to heare your servants truth,
Whose faith hath chose you judge, and jurie if you please;
If not, desart shal trye this cause your deintie mynd to ease.
The whole record is writ for rasing with my teares,
My witnesse is my withered corps, ny famished with feares:
A thousand sighes, besides, in open court will sweare,
You are the saint which with my heart I honour, love, and feare.
Disdaine that workes delayes, mistrust that moves my mone,
No witnesse hath to hinder right, but false suspect alone;
Yet boulstred up by scorne, they scoffe my loyall love,
And kept me play with forreine frumpes, til prickt by neede to prove,
If pitie could procure your heart my harme to rue,
I found remorse was preast to heare the plaint before your view.
And now, good lady, note my witnesse and my woe;
If I deserve your love for love, give verdite yea or no,
For daunted with delayes, for hap or harme I jumpe,
And knowe you once if fullen will my faythful love doth frumpe.
I will not languish long in cursed Cupides flame,
Death in despight shall rid me dole, and you shall beare the blame;
But if with sovereigne grace you may your servants state
Yeald recompence of love betimes, least liking comes too late
To coole his flaming harte, by Cupide set on fire,
Through heate whereof a Whetstone colde consumes with hote desire.