Classic Poem

Midst lasting griefes, to haue but short repose,
In little ease, to feede on loath'd suspect,
Through deepe despite, assured loue to lose,
In shew to like, in substance to neglect:

To laugh an howre, to weepe an age of woe,
From true mishap to gather false delight,
To freeze in feare, in inward hart to glowe:
To read my losse within a ruthles sight:

To seeke my weale, and wot not where it lies,
In hidden fraud, an open wrong to finde,
Of ancient thoughts, new fables to deuise,
Delightfull smiles, but yet a scornfull minde't
These are the meanes that murder my releefe,
And end my doubtfull hope with certaine greefe.