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Sonnet 140

           ,         ,          ,      ,         ,
      Be wise | as thou | art cruel;| do not | press
      <-          T    T    T                ,    ,         ,
         My || tongue-tied pa|tience with / too much | disdain;
            ,        ,         ,           ,         ,
      Lest^sor|row lend | me words | and words | express
           ,       ,       ,     ,         ,
      The man|ner of | my pit|y-wan|ting pain.
         ,           ,           ,     ,            ,
      If I | might^teach | thee wit | better | it were,
              ,         ,          ,         ,        ,
      Though not | to love,| yet love | to tell | me so;
          ,       ,     ,                   ,          ,
      As tes|ty sick | men, when | their deaths | be near,
           ,           ,            ,         ,         ,
      No news | but health | from their | physi|cians know;
       ,        ,               ,          ,           ,
      For, if | I should | despair, | I should | grow mad,
           ,       ,         ,       T    T   .   T
      And in | my mad|ness might | speak ill of thee;
                  ,    ,         ,          ,         ,
      Now this / ill-wrest|ing world | is grown | so bad,
       ,    ,               ,      T   .  T     T
      Mad slan/derers | by mad | ears believed be.
           ,        ,        ,         ,        ,
      That I | may not | be so,| nor thou | belied,
             ,              ,                     ,     ,          ,
      Bear* thine | eyes^straight,| though thy / proud heart | go wide.

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