Then hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now...
Sonnet 90Then 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-loss: Ah, do not, when my heart hath 'scaped this sorrow, Come in the rearward of a conquer'd woe; Give not a windy night a rainy morrow, To linger out a purposed overthrow. If thou wilt leave me, do not leave me last, When other petty griefs have done their spite But in the onset come; so shall I taste At first the very worst of fortune's might, And other strains of woe, which now seem woe, Compared with loss of thee will not seem so. Buy and Download...Click HERE
|
|
If you want to hate me, hate me now. The whole world seems set against me right now, so you might as well strike while the iron is hot and flatten me right now, not save it for later when I’m already tired out with sorrow. It’d be like a rainy day after a windy night,
dragging out an inevitable ruin. If you’re going to leave me, don’t leave me when other less important people have forsaken me and made me cranky. Do it first, so I feel the full force of the worst sorrow imaginable: it’ll make anything else afterwards seem like nothing.