LXXXIX. Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault, For thee, against myself I'll vow debate, For I muft ne'er love him whom thou doft hate. XC. Then hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now; Now, while the world is bent my deeds to cross, Join with the spite of fortune, make me bow, And do not drop in for an after-lofs: Ah, do not, when my heart hath 'scaped this sorrow, Give not a windy night a rainy morrow, If thou wilt leave me, do not leave me last, At first the very worft of fortune's might; And other ftrains of woe, which now feem woe, Compared with loss of thee will not seem so. XCI. Some glory in their birth, some in their skill, But these particulars are not my measure; All these I better in one general beft. Thy love is better than high birth to me, XCII. But do thy worst to steal thyself away, Then need I not to fear the worst of wrongs, Than that which on thy humour doth depend: O, what a happy title do I find, Happy to have thy love, happy to die! But what's fo bleffed-fair that fears no blot? Thou mayft be false, and yet I know it not. XCIII. So fhall I live, fuppofing thou art true, Is writ in moods and frowns and wrinkles ftrange, That in thy face fweet love fhould ever dwell; |