Be wise as thou art cruel; do not press <br />My tongue-tied patience with too much disdain, <br />Lest sorrow lend me words and words express <br />The manner of my pity-wanting pain. <br />If I might teach thee wit, better it were, <br />Though not to love, yet, love, to tell me so, <br />As testy sick men, when their deaths be near, <br />No news but health from their physicians know. <br />For if I should despair, I should grow mad, <br />And in my madness might speak ill of thee, <br />Now this ill-wresting world is grown so bad, <br />Mad slanderers by mad ears believèd be. <br /> That I may not be so, nor thou belied, <br /> Bear thine eyes straight, though thy proud heart go wide.<br /><br />William Shakespeare<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-140-be-wise-as-thou-art-cruel-do-not-pres/
