Classic Poem

Yett is ther hope: Then Love butt play thy part
Remember well thy self, and think on mee;
Shine in those eyes which conquer'd have my hart;
And see if mine bee slack to answere thee:

Lodg in that brest, and pitty moving see
For flames which in mine burne in truest smart
Exiling thoughts that touch inconstancie,
Or those which waste nott in the constant art,

Watch butt my sleepe, if I take any rest
For thought of you, my spiritt soe distrest
As pale, and famish'd, I, for mercy cry;

Will you your servant leave? Think butt on this;
Who weares loves crowne, must nott doe soe amiss,
Butt seeke theyr good, who on thy force doe lye.