Classic Poem

Patience, weake fortun'd, and weake minded Wit,
Perswade you me to ioy, when I am banish'd?
Why preach you time to come, and ioyes with it,
Since time already come, my ioyes hath vanish'd?

Giue me sweet Cynthia , with my wonted blisse,
Disperse the clouds that coffer vp my treasure,
Awake Endymion , with Diana's kisse,
And then sweet Patience, counsell me to measure.

But while my Loue feeles nothing but correction
While carelessnesse o'reshadowes my deuotion,
While Myra's beams shew riuall-like reflection,
The life of Patience then must be commotion;
Since not to feele what wrong I beare in this,
A senselesse state, and no true Patience is.