Classic Poem

Never love unlesse you can
Beare with all the faults of man:
Men sometimes will jealous bee
Though but little cause they see,
And hang the head, as discontent,
And speake what straight they will repent.

Men that but one Saint adore
Make a shew of love to more:
Beauty must be scorn'd in none,
Though but truely serv'd in one:
For what is courtship, but disguise?
True hearts may have dissembling eyes.

Men, when their affaires require,
Must a while themselves retire:
Sometimes hunt, and sometimes hawke,
And not ever sit and talke.
If these, and such like, you can beare,
Then like, and love, and never feare.