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Act I, Scene 140


  • Shakespeare. Be wise as thou art cruel; do not press
    My tongue-tied patience with too much disdain;
    Lest sorrow lend me words and words express 1950
    The manner of my pity-wanting pain.
    If I might teach thee wit, better it were,
    Though not to love, yet, love, to tell me so;
    As testy sick men, when their deaths be near,
    No news but health from their physicians know; 1955
    For if I should despair, I should grow mad,
    And in my madness might speak ill of thee:
    Now this ill-wresting world is grown so bad,
    Mad slanderers by mad ears believed be,
    That I may not be so, nor thou belied, 1960
    Bear thine eyes straight, though thy proud heart go wide.