Classic Poem

G EUE loosers leaue to speake,
let him that feeles the smart
Without controlment tel his tale,
to ease his heauy hart.
To thee (proude dame) I poynt,
who, like the beast of Nile,
By teares procurest thy frend to loue,
and slaiest him all the while.
By weeping, first to winne,
and after conquest made
To spoyle with spite those yelding ympes
that follow Cupids trade.
Condemnes thy cancred kinde,
more glory were for thee
To ransacke none but rebel harts,
and let the rest goe free.
Kinde wist not what she wrought
when she such beuty lent
Vnto these gallant limmes of thine
to monstrous mischiefe bent
For either fowler face
she would haue yelded thee:
Or better moode and milder minde
to make remorse of me
Thou bearest two burning brands,
below those browes of thine:
And I the brimstone in my brest,
which makes my hart to pine
Eche lowering looke of yours,
frets farther in my hart:
And nips me neerer then
the force of any other dart
And to increase my care,
thou makest thy beutie more:
An oyle (God wotte) vnto my fire,
no salue to ease my sore.
If thou a woman were
of ruth, and due remorse,
Thou wouldst allow me loue,
and not so proudly plague my corse.
I sue for mercy now,
with hands lift vp on hie,
Which, if I misse, I am assurde,
within fewe dayes to die.
And if I may not haue
the thing I would enioy:
I pray the gods to plague thee
as they did the dame of Troy
I meane that Creside coy
that linkt her with a Greeke:
And left the lusty Troyan Duke,
of all his loue to seeke
And so they wil, I trust,
a mirror make of thee:
That beuties darlings may beware,
when they thy scourge shal see.
I neuer meant thee wel
in all my life before,
But now to plague thy foule abuse,
I hate thee ten times more.
For reason willes me so
my frends to loue and serue,
And cruel Ladies, like thy selfe,
to wish as they deserue
Hencefoorth, if any limme
of mine perhap rebel,
And thee, whom I of right should loth,
doe loue or fancie wel:
I quite renounce the same,
he shal no more be mine
To vse or stand in stead, then I
doe purpose to be thine.
And thus, I make an end
of loue, and lines at once
The frounce consume the flesh of her
that feedes vpon my bones.