Sonnet 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 lov’st 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’erpressed defense can bide ?

Let me excuse thee ; ah my love well knows

Her pretty looks have been my 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 kill my pain.