Then hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now;
 Now, while the world is bent my deeds to cross,
 Join with the spite of fortune, make me bow,
 And do not drop in for an after-loss:
 Ah! do not, when my heart hath 'scap'd this sorrow, [bad word] in the rearward of a conquer'd woe;
 Give not a windy night a rainy morrow,
 To linger out a purpos'd overthrow.
 If thou wilt leave me, do not leave me last,
 When other petty griefs have done their spite,
 But in the [bad word]  so shall I taste
 At first the very worst of fortune's might;
       And other strains of woe, which now seem woe,
      [bad word] d with loss of thee, will not seem so.