O, call me not 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 defence 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.