Classic Poem

PO nder thy cares, and fumme them all in one,
Get the account of all thy hearts disease,
Recken the torments do thy mind displease,
Write vp each sigh, each plaint, each teare, each grone,
Remember on thy griefe conceau'd by day,
And call to minde thy nights disturbed rest,
Thinke on those visions did thy soule molest,
While as thy wearied corpes a sleeping lay,
And when all those thou hast enrold aright,
Into the count-booke of thy daily care,
Extract them truly, then present the sight,
With them of flinty Caelia the faire,
That she may see, if yet moe ills remaines,
For to be paid to her vniust disdaines.