Classic Poem

wheare hap or harme shall me betyd
by knowledg of thy lovely face
my doubtfull harte cannot decyde
the dome thearof rests in thy grace

for though thy sweete and pretious love
vouchsafe to voue it selfe to me
Except the fruyts thearof I prove
In suffrance must my fortune be

Or yf to my styll growing greyfe
on lyng[r]ing hoap my lyfe must feade
To late (Alas) wyll cumm relyfe
My hyddne wound doothe inward bleede

And though with mirthe I cloak my woe
In honor to preserve your name
Synce for your sake I suffer so
Aplye your favour to my flame.

which yf to doo thou shalt disdayne
nor gayne nor glory canst thou gett
That so the frendly harte haste slayne
To whome for love thou wearte in debt.