- Then hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now;
- Now, while the world is bent my deeds to cross,
- Join with the spite of fortune, make me bow,
- And do not drop in for an after-loss:
- Ah! do not, when my heart hath ’scap’d this sorrow,
- Come in the rearward of a conquer’d woe;
- Give not a windy night a rainy morrow,
- To linger out a purpos’d overthrow.
- If thou wilt leave me, do not leave me last,
- When other petty griefs have done their spite,
- But in the onset come: so shall I taste
- At first the very worst of fortune’s might;
- And other strains of woe, which now seem woe,
- Compar’d with loss of thee, will not seem so.