Classic Poem

Most welcome love, thow mortall foe to lies. /
thow roote of life, and ruiner of debate
An Impe of heaven, that troth to vertue ties. /
A soone of choise, that bastard lustes doth hate. /
A waye to fasten fancy most to reason
In all effects, and enemy most to treason. /

A flowre of faith, that will not vade for smart.
mother of trust, and murderer of our woes. /
In sorowes Seas, a Cordiall to the hart
that medcyne gives to every grief that growes
A skoole of witt, a nest of sweet conceit
A percynge eye, that findes a gilt disceit

A Fortres sure which reason must defend
A hopefull toyle, a most delightinge bande,
Affection mazed, that leades to happy ende
To ranginge thoughtes, a gentle raigninge hande
A Substaunce such as will not be undonne
A price of Joye for which the wysest ronne Sir Thomas

The markes of thoughtes, and messengers of will
(my friend) be wordes, but they not all to trust
for wordes be good, full oft when thoughtes be ill
as faire is falce thoughe sometyme sweete and Joste
Then Friend to Judge aright, and skape the scof
trust none till tyme, shall putt their vysardes of finis Mr Rawleigh .

Farwell falce Love thow oracle of lies
a mortall foe, and enemy to rest
An envious boye from whome all cares arise
a bastard vile, a beast with rage possest
A way of eror, a temple full of treason
In all effectes contrary unto reason

A poysned serpent, covered all with flowers
mother of sighes, and murderer of repose
A Sea of sorrowe, from whence are drawen such showers
as moysture lendes to every griefe that growes
A schoole of gyle, a nest of deep deceit
A gylded hook that holdes a poysened bait.

A fortress foild, whome reason did defend
a Cyrens songe, a feaver of the mynde
A maze wherin affection findes no end
a raginge clowde that runnes before the winde
A Substaunce lyke the shadow of the Sunne.
A goale of griefe for which the wysest ronne