Classic Poem

If I could hate thee; or of my selfe so much;
To entertaine foule Envy; thy wits such,
I like th'Illyrian Beldames on't should gaze,
Or like Mayes frosts upon the budding maze.
But certes, neither I to envie know,
Nor be thy rare endowments fix'd so low,
That Envie can ecclipse them: then here see
What love and admiration offers thee.