Classic Poem

The sweetnesse ( Sweete ) which in thy loue I feele,
Sweetens the sorrow which, through it, I tast:
It mee vpholds, as It doth make me reele;
And, doth enlarge my Heart, which It doth wast
LOVE , though Thou kill me, yet, I must confesse
Thou hast disbur'sd my Loue where it is due:
And though it boundiesse be, yet is it lesse
Then to my Loues worth doth, of right, accrue!
And though thou be a Spectacle , through which
Each grace seemes greater then, in deede, it is:
Yet, setled Iudgment mounts hir prices Pitch:
For, Heau'n and Earth do offer faire for This!
Then, sith Thou art more Faire then Eyes can see.
Ile offer Thee as faire (my Soule) for Thee.