Sonnet 149

Canst thou, O cruell, say I love thee not,

When I against my selfe with thee pertake;

Doe I not thinke on thee when I, forgot,

Am of my selfe, all tirant for thy sake?

Who hateth thee that I doe call my friend,

On whom frownst thou that I doe faune upon,

Nay if thou lowrst on me doe I not spend

Revenge upon my selfe with present mone?

What merrit do I in my selfe respect,

That is so proude thy service to dispise,

When all my best doth worship thy defect,

Commanded by the motion of thine eyes.

But love, hate on for now I know thy minde,

Those that can see, thou lov'st, and I am blind.