Classic Poem

Most deere, more hapy soverainsing harts,
Free from flattering;
Murdering peeces prove your sweet eye darts
Joys from desire scattering,

Why alas were you framd if alone to kill?
You knowe murdering
A crime by all condemn'd, is this your skill,
Nor caus'd nor furdering?

Yett you alas may certainly controle
Thos humours flowing,
Butt if itt bee you love to fleet, and role
Poor slaves for honors showing,
Certainly you will end att last as wee,
And pitty wanting cry alas wo's mee.