Classic Poem

A Letter sent vnto a Gentilwoman in verse, wherein he gaue great thanks for both good cheere and other curteous entertainement he had receiued at her hands, beeing in the Country at her house. The Gentilwomans name was Mistris Lettis.
First , to thy seemely selfe
my selfe I doo commend:
And for thy friendly cheere & cost
ten thousand thanks I send:
Which able to requite,
I know I shall not be:
But to my power, I will deserue
as much as lyes in me
But yet, of all thy cates,
one dish aboue the rest
I euer since doo beare in minde
which fare dooth like me best:
Which deinty dish (my deare)
If I mought plainly name,
Lettys it is, a houlsome hearbe:
thyselfe doost know the same.
An herbe that we haue here:
but yet I plainely finde
That Lettys, from our Lettys heere
dooth much digresse in kinde:
For in that Lettys, such
vertues soone I found
As fewç or none the like, I finde,
dooth grow vpon our ground:
This Lettys sweete art thou
in which I so delight:
And God he knows what griefs I hide
for wanting of thy sight.
No cates, that I can taste,
but seeme all gall to me:
When that in minde I feede vpon
the fresh recorde of thee:
And so, my Lettys sweete
vnto thy selfe farewell!
And thinck no cates like Lettys fine
can like me halfe so well.