Indecision

Occasionally a fragment of poetry comes unbidden into my mind.  Sometimes it happens in the middle of the night, when I have to get out of bed and go to a book or the internet to find the whole poem so that I can rest easy and go back to sleep.  Whereas formerly I had to rely on my collection of books, now the internet is available to satisfy my curiosity.

 It happened just now when I was playing a quick game of  Freecell on my laptop:  "...since there's no help ..."  was the tiny fragment.

What prompted this I have no idea.  After a few moments came the rest of a line - " come, let us kiss and part ..."

Here's the rest of it:

    SINCE there's no help, come let us kiss and part;
    Nay, I have done, you get no more of me,
    And I am glad, yea glad with all my heart
    That thus so cleanly I myself can free;
    Shake hands forever, cancel all our vows,
    And when we meet at any time again,
    Be it not seen in either of our brows
    That we one jot of former love retain.
    Now at the last gasp of Love's latest breath,
    When, his pulse failing, Passion speechless lies,
    When Faith is kneeling by his bed of death,
    And Innocence is closing up his eyes,
        Now if thou wouldst, when all have given him over,
        From death to life thou mightst him yet recover. 

So, after all, there might be help?  And, is it Love or Passion beside whose bed of death Faith is kneeling?  I don't think Michael Drayton can have been equating the two.