Sonnet Xc

William Shakespeare

     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-loss:
     Ah, do not, when my heart hath 'scoped 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.

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