Classic Poem

Mye love toke skorne my servise to retaine
Wherein me thought she usid crueltie:
Sins with good will I lost my libretye
To followe her wiche causith all my payne.
Might never care cause me for to refrayne
But onlye this wiche is extremytie,
Gyving me nought, alas, not to agree
That as I was her man, I might remayne.
But sins that thus ye list to ordre me
That wolde have bene your servaunte true and faste,
Displese the not, my doting dayes bee paste,
And with my losse to leve I must agre;
For as there is a certeyne tyme to rage,
So ys there tyme suche madnes to asswage.