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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thanks