Though thy fiery wit doth burn my
        heart,
Lest we should ne'er meet and e'er be
        apart,
Let thy tongue red pound me to the
        pavement,
And thy true-bred words be to be
        grave meant; ---
For, to blindly love without e'er seeing,
Is like being cut and yet ne'er
        bleeding:
Logic it defies, and reason as well,
Causes the mind in confoundment to
        swell.
So let it be our lot to be content
With each other's malice, spite, and
        torment;
To speak our needs to each other's
        deaf ears,
And then watch to the sword lay bear
        our cares.
   'Twere better this way our shared
        lives to live
   Than die in the hope and love we
        ne'er give.