Sonnet 140
The Dark Lady: Desire
- 1 Be wise as thou art cruel; do not press
- 2 My tongue-tied patience with too much disdain;
- 3 Lest sorrow lend me words, and words express
- 4 The manner of my pity-wanting pain.
- 5 If I might teach thee wit, better it were,
- 6 Though not to love, yet, love to tell me so;—
- 7 As testy sick men, when their deaths be near,
- 8 No news but health from their physicians know;—
- 9 For, if I should despair, I should grow mad,
- 10 And in my madness might speak ill of thee;
- 11 Now this ill-wresting world is grown so bad,
- 12 Mad slanderers by mad ears believed be.
- 13 That I may not be so, nor thou belied,
- 14 Bear thine eyes straight, though thy proud heart go wide.