by: William Shakespeare
      OR shame, deny that thou bear'st love to any
      Who for thyself art so unprovident:
      Grant, if thou wilt, thou art beloved of many,
      But that thou none lov'st is most evident;
      For thou art so possessed with murd'rous hate
      That 'gainst thyself thou stick'st not to conspire,
      Seeking that beauteous roof to ruinate
      Which to repair should be thy chief desire.
      O, change thy thought, that I may change my mind;
      Shall hate be fairer lodged than gentle love?
      Be as thy presence is, gracious and kind,
      Or to thyself at least kind-hearted prove:
      Make thee another self for love of me,
      That beauty still may live in thine or thee.