O, call not me to justify the wrong <br /> That thy unkindness lays upon my heart; <br /> Wound me not with thine eye but with thy tongue; <br /> Use power with power and slay me not by art. <br /> Tell me thou lovest elsewhere, but in my sight, <br /> Dear heart, forbear to glance thine eye aside: <br /> What need'st thou wound with cunning when thy might <br /> Is more than my o'er-press'd defense can bide? <br /> Let me excuse thee: ah! my love well knows <br /> Her pretty looks have been mine enemies, <br /> And therefore from my face she turns my foes, <br /> That they elsewhere might dart their injuries: <br /> Yet do not so; but since I am near slain, <br /> Kill me outright with looks and rid my pain.<br /><br />William Shakespeare<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-cxxxix/
