Classic Poem

Speake gentle heart, where is thy dwelling place?
With her, whose birth the heavens themselves have blest.
What dost thou there? Somtimes behold her face,
And lodge sometimes within her cristall brest:
She cold, thou hot, how can you then agree?
Not nature now, but love doth governe me.
With her wilt thou remaine, and let mee die?
If I returne, wee both shall die for griefe:
If still thou staye, what good shall growe thereby?
Ile move her heart to purchase thy reliefe:
What if her heart be hard, and stop his eares?
Ile sigh aloud, and make him soft with teares:
If that prevaile, wilte thou returne from thence?
Not I alone, her heart shall come with mee:
Then will you both live under my defence?
So long as life will let us both agree:
Why then dispaire, goe packe thee hence away,
I live in hope to have a golden daie.