Classic Poem

Where are my Vowes withouten number now?
My teares withouten measure that I shed?
My skalding sighs to make proud ALBA bow?
They all are gone, forgot, quite banished.
Yet though they not deserve her love they crave,
Me thinks some better fortune they should have.

But if the Gods in judgement partiall sit,
Unequall viewers of each injurie:
And with condigne revenge seeke not to quit
So monstrous wrong, such nere heard Crueltie:
Why then I Reason none for Lovers see,
That they should bide such paine for loyaltie.

Yet neither Hopes preferment, were it great,
Nor feare of punishment, though to my paine:
Nor counsell of the Wisest that entreat,
Nor company of best where I remaine,
Shall ever make me once my Humour change,
Nor from my first devoted Vow to range.

My youths chiefe Flower (of all my life the prime)
In melancholy passion I will spend:
Careles behaviour shall my latter time
(Because (forsooke) she cares not for me) end.
Thus will I still continue during breath,
Doting on her, who doth devise my death.