Classic Poem

I SUNDRY see for beuties glosse
that with my mistresse may compare:
But few I finde for true good wil
that to their frends so frendly are.
Looke what she saies, I may assure
my selfe thereof, she wil not faine:
What others speake is hard to trust,
they measure all their words by gaine.
Her lookes declare her louing minde,
her countnance and her heart agree:
When others laugh they looke as smooth,
but loue not halfe so wel as she:
The greefe is hers when I am grypte,
my fingers ache is her disease:
With me, though others mourne to sight,
yet are their hearts at quiet ease.
So that I marke in Cupids court,
are many faire and fresh to see:
Each where is sowen dame beuties seede,
but faire and faithfull few there bee.