William Shakespeare
1564-1616
Sonnet LXXXIX
Say that thou
didst forsake me for some fault,
And I will comment
upon that offence:
Speak of my lameness,
and I straight will halt,
Against thy reasons
making no defence.
Thou canst not love
disgrace me half so ill,
To set a form upon
desired change,
As I'll myself disgrace;
knowing thy will,
I will acquaintance
strangle, and look strange;
Be absent from thy
walks; and in my tongue
Thy sweet beloved
name no more shall dwell,
Lest I, too much profane,
should do it wrong,
And haply of our old
acquaintance tell.
For thee, against my self I'll vow debate,
For I must ne'er love him whom thou dost hate.
|