Sonnet 139
O call not me to justify the wrongThat 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 mightIs more than my o'er-press'd defense can bide?
Let me excuse thee: ah, my love well knowsHer pretty looks have been mine enemies,And therefore from my face she turns my foesThat 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.