- Be wise as thou art cruel; do not press
- My tongue-tied patience with too much disdain;
- Lest sorrow lend me words, and words express
- The manner of my pity-wanting pain.
- If I might teach thee wit, better it were,
- Though not to love, yet love to tell me so,
- As testy sick men, when their deaths be near,
- No news but health from their physicians know.
- For, if I should despair, I should grow mad,
- And in my madness might speak ill of thee;
- Now this ill-wresting world is grown so bad,
- Mad slanderers by mad ears believed be.
- That I may not be so, nor thou belied,
- Bear thine eyes straight, though thy proud heart go wide.