Classic Poem

Sonnet. II.

Give Period to my matter of complaining,
faire wonder of our times admiring eye:
and entertaine no more thy long disdaining
Or giue mee leaue (at last) that I may dye.
For who can lyue, perpetually secluded
from death to life, that loathes her discontent?
Lesse by some hope seducingly deluded,
such thoughts aspyre to fortunate euent:
But I, that nowe haue drawne Mal-pleasant breath,
vnder the burden of thy cruell hate,
o I must long, and linger after death,
and yet I dare not giue my life her date.
For if I dye, and thou repent t'haue slaine mee,
T' wil griue mee more then if thou did'st disdaine me.