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 warrantise 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 rais'd
love in me,
More worthy I to be beloved
of thee.
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