Classic Poem

But this and then no more
it is my laste and all
And for ech woorde that I did write
a brackishe teare dyd fall
Not that I hope for grace
I dyd theis lynes indyte
For why I knowe the fates them selfes
att such my fortune spite
Butt since my hope my fayth
my love and trewe intente
My lybertie my Service vowed
and all my tyme is spente
Since that all theis I saye
I see are loste in vaine
To loose theis latter wordes withall
I coumpte it lytle paine
And yett yff yow but reade
and view them with your eye
Then will I not esteme them loste
thoughe nought I gaine therbye
Butt yf yow deeme I seeke
to move your mynde to ruthe
By this comparinge my harde happe
to my approved truthe
My meanynge yow mistake
no such intent I have
For to redresse my cureles harme
I knowe not what to crave
My griefes are to farr growne
my woundes are gonn to deepe
And your disdaynes with my dispaires
to neere my harte doo creepe
I am not as I was
when firste I loved your face
My spryts which then swame in delighte
are nowe suncke in disegrace
Nor love hath not the power
that once one me he hadd
Your frownes cann neyther make me mourne
nor favours make me gladd
Nott that I have more power
to govern my desyre
But that I onely am in deede
as aysshes leafte of fire
Yett cursse I nott the wighte
the causer off the same
Nor never will, butt with regarde
and honor use the name
Thoughe for her sake I vowe
and will the same approwe
She was the firste and is the laste
for whom my harte shall love
And yow that read theis lynes
and scanne of my desarte
Geve Judegement whether was more hardd
my happe or els her harte
And as for you fayre one
saye nowe by proofe yow fynde
That Rigor and ingratitude
sone kills a gentell mynde.