Classic Poem

Still in the trace of one perplexed thought,
My ceasles cares continually run on:
Seeking in vaine what I haue euer sought,
One in my loue, and her hard hart still one
I who did neuer ioy in other Sun,
And haue no stars but those, that must fulfill
The worke of rigor, fatally begun
Vpon this heart, whom cruelty will kill.
Iniurious D ELIA yet I loue thee still,
And will whilst I shall draw this breath of mine,
Ile tell the world that I deseru'd but ill,
And blame my selfe t'excuse that heart of thine.
See then who sinnes the greater of vs twaine,
I in my loue, or thou in thy disdaine.