Classic Poem

Shee that holdes me under the lawes of love
on whome my mornefull vearse so ofte complaines
For those straunge griefs that I through[h]e wronge do prove
she is the courte wherin my lyfe remaynes
Shee is my prince off whom I woulde desarve
and shee alone to me can favor lende
Shee hath for courtiers thowsands that doo serve
and onely on her eyes for lookes attende
Unto her love wee woulde as fayne aspire
as others wolde in Courte to honors ryse
And as disgrace makes courtiers to retyre
so doo her frownes cause malecontents likewise
Like to the courte shee is unconstante and unkinde
Butt from the courte dyffers in this alone
That in the courte men hope rewarde to finde
But followinge her suche hope remayneth none