For shame, deny that thou bear'st love to any,
Who for thyself art so improvident!
Grant if thou wilt, thou art beloved of many,
But that thou none lov'st is most evident;
For thou art possesed 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 love for me,
That beauty still may live in thine or thee.

Shakespeare - sonnet 10