Could none be so more sorry than myself
If he is found then I need lower still;
For beauty's worth in every kind of wealth,
Albeit depths of my remorseful will.
But is her heart of stone; to let me dwell -
Within the limbo of a mercy's curse,
For if I linger long, I'll know too well;
That she had not so read and felt this verse.
No! This torment cannot be left unread;
By neither eyes nor what does know her name,
Tho' I deserve her cold, what colds unsaid,
Have I so been in love, tho' love to blame.
Through loving pain I birth my sonnet plea
Forgive me-not, then I forgive-not, me.