LXXXIX. Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault, Thou canst not, love, disgrace me half so ill, For thee, against myself I'll vow debate, For I must ne'er love him whom thou doft hate. XC. Then hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now; Ah, do not, when my heart hath 'scaped this forrow, Give not a windy night a rainy morrow, If thou wilt leave me, do not leave me laft, At first the very worst of fortune's might; And other strains of woe, which now seem woe, XCI. Some glory in their birth, some in their skill, But these particulars are not my measure; Thy love is better than high birth to me, XCII. But do thy worst to steal thyself away, Than that which on thy humour doth depend: Happy to have thy love, happy to die! But what's fo bleffed-fair that fears no blot? Thou mayst be false, and yet I know it not. XCIII. So fhall I live, fupposing thou art true, Like a deceived husband; so love's face May still seem love to me, though alter'd new; Thy looks with me, thy heart in other place : For there can live no hatred in thine eye, Therefore in that I cannot know thy change. In many's looks the false heart's hiftory Is writ in moods and frowns and wrinkles ftrange, That in thy face sweet love should ever dwell; |