For shame
deny that thou bear'st love to any
Who for
thy self art so unprovident.
Grant if
thou wilt, thou art beloved of many,
But that
thou none lov'st is most evident:
For thou
art so possessed with murd'rous hate,
That
'gainst thy self thou stick'st not to conspire,
Seeking
that beauteous roof to ruinate
Which to
repair should be thy chief desire:
O change
thy thought, that I may change my mind,
Shall hate
be fairer lodged than gentle love?
Be as thy
presence is gracious and kind,
Or to thy
self at least kind-hearted prove,
Make thee
another self for love of me,
That
beauty still may live in thine or thee.
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