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X.
For
shame! deny that thou bear'st love to any,
Who for
thyself art so unprovident.
Grant, if thou wilt, thou
art beloved of many,
But that thou none lovest is
most evident;
For thou art so possess'd with
murderous hate
That 'gainst thyself thou stick'st not
to conspire.
Seeking that beauteous roof to ruinate
Which to repair should be thy chief desire.
O, change
thy thought, that I may change my mind!
Shall hate be
fairer lodged than gentle love?
Be, as thy presence
is, gracious and kind,
Or to thyself at least
kind-hearted prove:
Make thee another self, for love
of me,
That beauty still may live in thine or thee.
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