If Beauty thus be clouded with a frown, 
That pity shines no comfort to my bliss, 
And vapors of disdain so overfrown, 
That my life's light thus wholy darken'd is, 
Why should I more molest the world with cries, 
The air with sighs, the earth below with tears? 
Since I live hateful to those ruthless eyes, 
Vexing with untun'd moan her dainty ears; 
If I have lov'd her dearer than my breath, 
My breath that calls the heav'ns to witness it, 
And still must hold her dear till after death; 
And if that all this cannot move a whit, 
Yet let her say that she hath done me wrong, 
To use me thus and know I lov'd so long.