I always wonder how I might've reacted to that sonnet if I'd read it in its own time instead of mine. Helas, I'm a child of the twentieth century and so, while I read, my mind is reciting in response:

Why so pale and wan, fond lover?
Prithee why so pale?
Will, when looking well can't move her,
Looking ill prevail?
Prithee why so pale?

Why so dull and mute, young sinner?
Prithee why so mute?
Will, when speaking well can't win her,
Saying nothing do't?
Prithee why so mute?

Quit, quit for shame, this will not move,
This cannot take her;
If of herself she will not love,
Nothing can make her;
The devil take her!

- Sir John Suckling