Sonet 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 'scaped 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 Shekespeare)

Я всегда знала, что Шекспир - гений.