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 spite
but in the onset come; so shall I taste
at 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.
william shakespeare