THEN hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now; <br />Now, while the world is bent my deeds to cross, <br />Join with the spite of fortune, make me bow, <br />And do not drop in for an after loss: <br />Ah! do not, when my heart hath 'scaped this sorrow, <br />Come in the rearward of a conquer'd woe; <br />Give not a windy night a rainy morrow, <br />To linger out a purposed overthrow. <br />If thou wilt leave me, do not leave me last, <br />When other petty griefs have done their spite, <br />But in the onset come: so shall I taste <br />At first the very worst of fortune's might; <br /> And other strains of woe, which now seem woe, <br /> Compared with loss of thee will not seem so!<br /><br />William Shakespeare<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnets-x/
