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 spiteBut in the onset come; so shall I tasteAt 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.
And if you must hate me, I'm ready.Don't wait until Fortune's unsteadyreturns take their blow.I'm already low,so come and do it already!