coil - iv. finite bees - (sonnet xliii) lyrics
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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 ‘scoped this sorrow, come in the rearward of a conquer’d woe; give not a windy night a rainy morrow, to linger out a purposed overthrow.
if thou wilt leave me, do not leave me last, when other petty griefs have done their spite
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, compared with loss of thee will not seem so.
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