sonnet

Canst thou, O cruel! say I love thee not,When I against myself with thee partake?Do I not think on thee, when I forgotAm of myself, all tyrant, for thy sake?Who hateth thee that I do call my friend?On whom frown'st thou that I do fawn upon?Nay, if thou lour'st on me, do I not spendRevenge upon myself with present moan?What merit do I in myself respect,That is so proud thy service to despise,When all my best doth worship thy defect,Commanded by the motion of thine eyes?But, love, hate on, for now I know thy mind;Those that can see thou lovest, and I am blind.