Sonnet 140

The Dark Lady: Desire

  1. 1 Be wise as thou art cruel; do not press
  2. 2 My tongue-tied patience with too much disdain;
  3. 3 Lest sorrow lend me words, and words express
  4. 4 The manner of my pity-wanting pain.
  5. 5 If I might teach thee wit, better it were,
  6. 6 Though not to love, yet, love to tell me so;—
  7. 7 As testy sick men, when their deaths be near,
  8. 8 No news but health from their physicians know;—
  9. 9 For, if I should despair, I should grow mad,
  10. 10 And in my madness might speak ill of thee;
  11. 11 Now this ill-wresting world is grown so bad,
  12. 12 Mad slanderers by mad ears believed be.
  13. 13 That I may not be so, nor thou belied,
  14. 14 Bear thine eyes straight, though thy proud heart go wide.