Donne good? (This may be why puns went out of fashion)

Embrace my soul, O Scholastic Prince; for, you
As yet but mock, quote, yell and seek to win;
That I may know, and seek no more, Conquer me, and lend
Your wit to crush, destroy, and build me up
I, like pull’d child, to’parent due,
Long for antiquity, but O, to no concluse[1],

Faith your certainty in me, should be my shield
But is o’erthrown, and halting, stilted, proves.
Still, I am thine, and would call you mine in truth,
Yet, of another first, and cannot be your love:
Split my selves, cleave all my soul in two, again;
Carbon copied me, imitation, still for you
Except, you made this, perpetual near-kiss
And made me to float in maddening abyss.

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[1] Fem. Plural of Italian Adjective: Concluso; meaning to be settled, concluded, closed, or made.