1 O, call not me to justify the wrong
2 That thy unkindness lays upon my heart;
3 Wound me not with thine eye but with thy tongue;
4 Use power with power, and slay me not by art.
5 Tell me thou lov'st elsewhere, but in my sight,
6 Dear heart, forbear to glance thine eye aside;
7 What need'st thou wound with cunning when thy might
8 Is more than my o'er-press'd defense can bide?
9 Let me excuse thee: ah! my love well knows
10 Her pretty looks have been mine enemies,
11 And therefore from my face she turns my foes,
12 That they elsewhere might dart their injuries:
13 Yet do not so, but since I am near slain,
14 Kill me outright with looks, and rid my pain.