Sonnet 90

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 ’scoped this sorrow,

Come in the rearward of a conquer’d woe;

Give not a windy night a rainy morrow,

To linger out a purposed overthrow.

If thou wilt leave me, do not leave me last,

When other petty griefs have done their spite,

But in the onset come, so shall I taste

At first the very worst of fortune’s might.

And other strains of woe, which now seem woe,

Compared with loss of thee, will not seem so.

Reject me if you will. If yes, now,

While the whole world would obstruct my freedom.

Join up with fate, bad fortune, go low.

Come now, if you’re going to come.

Don’t wait till I’ve escaped this sorrow,

Breaking in then, once I’m safe broken.

It’s snowing now. Don’t freeze tomorrow,

Echoing the curses spoken.

If you’ll leave me, don’t leave last,

To stay and watch the lesser griefs.

Come now. Let me lose first

The best of my beliefs.

So then the worse, which now seems worst,

Will have (curse them) less bitter taste.