A sonnet from lysander to helena

Fair Hermia Thou waseth my trus't love forever
Mine truest love hath changed, nothing now
I hath said we would let love fade never
But fair Hermia, time passeth, take this bow
If'eth thou art sad, brush'eth thou tears away
Someoneth loves you, do not thou despair
Thou may not satisfy that hunger away
Of true love, but not beyond'eth repair
Blame it on those fairies, and the potion
Did cometh it from a flower of death?
The death of love, of sweet love in motion?
Thou art sweet as a flower of Saint Beth
Fair love, someone loveth you, don't despair
For love is never beyondeth repair