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.