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Act I, Scene 139


  • 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.