O, call not me to justify the wrong
That thy unkindness lays upon my heart;
Wound me not with thine eye but with thy tongue;
Use power with power, and slay me not by art.
Tell me thou lovst elsewhere; but in my sight,
Dear heart, forbear to glance thine eye aside;
What needst thou wound with cunning when thy might
Is more than my oerpressed 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
    Yet do not so; but since I am near slain,
    Kill me outright with looks and rid my pain.
Sonnet 139: O, call not me to justify the wrong