Sonnet 150

O, from what power hast thou this powerful might

With insufficiency my heart to sway,

To make me give the lie to my true sight,

And swear that brightness doth not grace the day?

Whence hast thou this becoming of things ill,

That in the very refuse of thy deeds

There is such strength and warrantize of skill

That in my mind thy worst all best exceeds?

Who taught thee how to make me love thee more,

The more I hear and see just cause of hate?

O, though I love what others do abhor,

With others thou shouldst not abhor my state.

If thy unworthiness raised love in me,

More worthy I to be beloved of thee.

How do you move me to such attraction

When there’s so little in you to desire,

So that against my own satisfaction

I say that beauty is fire.

How can you be such a terrible person

And still be so capable

Of confusing my reason,

Turning me on so well?

Who taught you how to make me desire you

More, the more cause I have to disdain?

Why can’t I see you as others see you?

I premise my plea on pain:

Should you not have mercy, and love the most

The one who’s fallen for your worst?