Classic Poem

Was never day came on my head
Wherein I did not sue for grace;
Was never night but I in bed
Unto my pillow told my case,
Baining my breast, my breast,
For want of rest,
With tears oppressed; yet remedy none
Was to be found for all my moan.

If she had deignid my good will
And recompensed me with her love,
I would have been her vassal still,
And never once my heart remove:
I did pretend, pretend
To be her friend
Unto the end; but she refused
My loving heart, and me abused.

But since I see her stony heart
Cannot be pierced with pity's lance,
Since nought is gained but woeful smart,
I do intend to break the dance,
And quite forgo, forgo
My pleasant foe
That pains me so, and thinks in fine
To make me like to Circe's swine.

I clean defy her flattering face,
I quite abhor her luring looks:
As long as Jove shall give me grace
She never comes within my books;
I do detest, detest
So false a guest
That breeds unrest, where she should plant
Her love, if pity did not want.

Let her go seek some other fool,
Let her enrage some other dolt:
I have been taught in Plato's school
From Cupid's banner to revolt,
And to forsake, forsake
As fearful snake,
Such as do make a man but smart
For bearing them a faithful heart.