Sonnet 139

O, call not me to justify the wrongThat thy unkindness lays upon my heart;Wound me not with thine eye, but with thy tongue:Use power with power, and slay me not by art. 4Tell me thou lov'st elsewhere; but in my sight,Dear heart, forbear to glance thine eye aside:What need'st thou wound with cunning, when thy mightIs more than my o'erpress'd defence can bide? 8Let me excuse thee: ah! my love well knowsHer pretty looks have been my enemies;And therefore from my face she turns my foes,That they elsewhere might dart their injuries: 12Yet do not so; but since I am near slain,Kill me outright with looks, and rid my pain.

4 by art: by cunning