Classic Poem

Oh that I were sly Proteus , for to take
On mee that forme, which most I like or wish;
Then would I change my selfe into the shape
Of that thy little whelpe, thy joy and blisse,
Into that little worme thou so doost like,
And dallying plaist with him both day and night.
Those saverie smackes, those busses, sweet which bee,
Which thou to him doost give, should all be mine;
And I would make my hart to leap for glee,
Whilst I did licke that bosome faire of thine:
But since I to despaire of this am brought,
My wish shall Proteus be, thy Dog my thought.