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

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 140

|CXL. |
|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. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 141

|CXLI. |
|In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes, |
|For they in thee a thousand errors note; |
|But 'tis my heart that loves what they despise, |
|Who in despite of view is pleased to dote; |
|Nor are mine ears with thy tongue's tune |
|delighted, |
|Nor tender feeling, to base touches prone, |
|Nor taste, nor smell, desire to be invited |
|To any sensual feast with thee alone: |
|But my five wits nor my five senses can |
|Dissuade one foolish heart from serving thee, |
|Who leaves unsway'd the likeness of a man, |
|Thy proud hearts slave and vassal wretch to be: |
| Only my plague thus far I count my gain, |
| That she that makes me sin awards me pain. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 142

|CXLII. |
|Love is my sin and thy dear virtue hate, |
|Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving: |
|O, but with mine compare thou thine own state, |
|And thou shalt find it merits not reproving; |
|Or, if it do, not from those lips of thine, |
|That have profaned their scarlet ornaments |
|And seal'd false bonds of love as oft as mine, |
|Robb'd others' beds' revenues of their rents. |
|Be it lawful I love thee, as thou lovest those |
|Whom thine eyes woo as mine importune thee: |
|Root pity in thy heart, that when it grows |
|Thy pity may deserve to pitied be. |
| If thou dost seek to have what thou dost hide, |
| By self-example mayst thou be denied! |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 143

|CXLIII. |
|Lo! as a careful housewife runs to catch |
|One of her feather'd creatures broke away, |
|Sets down her babe and makes an swift dispatch |
|In pursuit of the thing she would have stay, |
|Whilst her neglected child holds her in chase, |
|Cries to catch her whose busy care is bent |
|To follow that which flies before her face, |
|Not prizing her poor infant's discontent; |
|So runn'st thou after that which flies from thee,|
| |
|Whilst I thy babe chase thee afar behind; |
|But if thou catch thy hope, turn back to me, |
|And play the mother's part, kiss me, be kind: |
| So will I pray that thou mayst have thy 'Will,'|
| |
| If thou turn back, and my loud crying still. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 144

|CXLIV. |
|Two loves I have of comfort and despair, |
|Which like two spirits do suggest me still: |
|The better angel is a man right fair, |
|The worser spirit a woman colour'd ill. |
|To win me soon to hell, my female evil |
|Tempteth my better angel from my side, |
|And would corrupt my saint to be a devil, |
|Wooing his purity with her foul pride. |
|And whether that my angel be turn'd fiend |
|Suspect I may, but not directly tell; |
|But being both from me, both to each friend, |
|I guess one angel in another's hell: |
| Yet this shall I ne'er know, but live in doubt,|
| |
| Till my bad angel fire my good one out. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 145

|CXLV. |
|Those lips that Love's own hand did make |
|Breathed forth the sound that said 'I hate' |
|To me that languish'd for her sake; |
|But when she saw my woeful state, |
|Straight in her heart did mercy come, |
|Chiding that tongue that ever sweet |
|Was used in giving gentle doom, |
|And taught it thus anew to greet: |
|'I hate' she alter'd with an end, |
|That follow'd it as gentle day |
|Doth follow night, who like a fiend |
|From heaven to hell is flown away; |
| 'I hate' from hate away she threw, |
| And saved my life, saying 'not you.' |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 146

|CXLVI. |
|Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth, |
|[ ] these rebel powers that thee array; |
|Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth, |
|Painting thy outward walls so costly gay? |
|Why so large cost, having so short a lease, |
|Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend? |
|Shall worms, inheritors of this excess, |
|Eat up thy charge? is this thy body's end? |
|Then soul, live thou upon thy servant's loss, |
|And let that pine to aggravate thy store; |
|Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross; |
|Within be fed, without be rich no more: |
| So shalt thou feed on Death, that feeds on men,|
| |
| And Death once dead, there's no more dying |
|then. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 147

|CXLVII. |
|My love is as a fever, longing still |
|For that which longer nurseth the disease, |
|Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill, |
|The uncertain sickly appetite to please. |
|My reason, the physician to my love, |
|Angry that his prescriptions are not kept, |
|Hath left me, and I desperate now approve |
|Desire is death, which physic did except. |
|Past cure I am, now reason is past care, |
|And frantic-mad with evermore unrest; |
|My thoughts and my discourse as madmen's are, |
|At random from the truth vainly express'd; |
| For I have sworn thee fair and thought thee |
|bright, |
| Who art as black as hell, as dark as night. |

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