Act I, Scene 139

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• Shakespeare. O, call not me to justify the wrong
  That thy unkindness lays upon my heart; 1935
  Wound me not with thine eye but with thy tongue;
  Use power with power and slay me not by art.
  Tell me thou lovest elsewhere, but in my sight,
  Dear heart, forbear to glance thine eye aside:
  What need'st thou wound with cunning when thy might 1940
  Is more than my o'er-press'd defense can bide?
  Let me excuse thee: ah! my love well knows
  Her pretty looks have been mine enemies,
  And therefore from my face she turns my foes,
  That they elsewhere might dart their injuries: 1945
  Yet do not so; but since I am near slain,
  Kill me outright with looks and rid my pain.