William Shakespeare. 1564–1616

Sonnet XC.

“Then hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now”

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 ’scap’d this sorrow,    5
Come in the rearward of a conquer’d woe;  
Give not a windy night a rainy morrow,  
To linger out a purpos’d overthrow.  
If thou wilt leave me, do not leave me last,  
When other petty griefs have done their spite,   10
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,  
  Compar’d with loss of thee will not seem so.