Classic Poem

Sith all my Thoughts are but my Mindes Conceits
And my Conceits but motions of my Mind,
How is it that my Minde in hir Receits
Takes not, for Currant, Thoughts well Coynd, by kinde?
It is because their Mettall is but meane
Sith they are forgd but by fraile Fantasie?
Or, els because their temper is vncleane?
Or, all in one, their value vilifie?
Whatere it bee it makes my Thoughts to muse
That (beeing stampt by Arte, and forgd by kinde)
My Minde should yet (as base) the same refuse;
Or, naile them vp, where they no passage find
The cause, I thinke [which Thought may Currant runne]
Is, [sith shee is a Queene of Fleshe, and Bloud]
Shee will haue nought [lest all should be vndone]
Alow'd by hir that is not great, and good!
Then how escape these counterfet Conceits
[Base for ther Stuff, and rugged for their Stampe]
Out of hir Mynt, [alow'd by Iudgments Weightes?]
They scape through Passions Mist, and Errors Dampe
But can a fault excus'd bee by a fault
The lesser by the greater farre? o no,
Then this excuse sith downe-right, it doth halt,
For Currant, with the Vpright cannot go:
But ist a fault to loue, as tis to hate?
Nor, Loue nor Hate are faultie, being iust:
But, tis a fault to loue (if too too late)
Because such loue looks too like hatefull Lust;
Then if I loue (as Loue is vnderstood)
My Vnderstanding much misguides my Will:
Which of hir selfe though [blind still] goes to good
If blind Intelligence lad her not ill.
Then tis the blame of blind Intelligence,
And whats the cause Intelligence is blind?
It blinded is by misreport of Sence:
For that doth blind the Soule, and lame the Mind
But must I sensuall seeme, to seem excus'd,
Then worse and worse falls out mine ill excuse:
Twere better say, by Loue I am abusd,
Sith I, to loue, haue offred much abuse
Abusd by Loue, with my Lusts consent!
That is too strange a strength for Loue, or Lust:
And eithers powr in me, is impotent:
For, how boiles Bloud, that long since is addust?
Wel, be it as it may, it seems my might
Giues way to what it would, not what it should:
Which on the bent of my Minds Motions light,
Puts these right Lines of Loue which long will hold
But if they breake when my Mind is vnbent,
Now shall they breake, for I eu'n now repent