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LXXXIX.
Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault,
And I
will comment upon that offence;
Speak of my lameness,
and I straight will halt,
Against thy reasons making
no defence.
Thou canst not, love, disgrace me half so
ill,
To set a form upon desired change,
As I'll
myself disgrace: knowing thy will,
I will
acquaintance strangle and look strange,
Be absent
from thy walks, and in my tongue
Thy sweet beloved
name no more shall dwell,
Lest I, too much profane,
should do it wrong
And haply of our old acquaintance
tell.
For thee against myself I'll vow debate,
For
I must ne'er love him whom thou dost hate.
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