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If thou survive my well-contented day,
But since he died, and poets better prove,
Full many a glorious morning have I seen
Yet him for this my love no whit disdaineth;
Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day,
cloak, To let base clouds o'ertake me in my way, Hiding thy bravery in their rotten smoke? 'Tis not enough that through the cloud thou break, To dry the rain on my storm-beaten face, For no man well of such a salve can speak That heals the wound and cures not the disgrace : Nor can thy shame give physic to my grief; Though thou repent, yet I have still the loss : The offender's sorrow lends but weak relief To him that bears the strong offence's cross.
Ah, but those tears are pearl which thy love sheds, And they are rich and ransom all ill deeds.
No more be grieved at that which thou hast done :
That I an accessary needs must be
Let me confess that we two must be twain,
my bewailed guilt should do thee shame, Nor thou with public kindness honour me, Unless thou take that honour from thy name :
But do not so; I love thee in such sort