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| SONNET 34 |
| Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day, |
| And make me travel forth without my cloak, |
| To let base clouds o'ertake me in my way, |
| Hiding thy bravery in their rotten smoke? |
| 'Tis not enough that through the cloud thou break, |
| To dry the rain on my storm-beaten face, |
| For no man well of such a salve can speak |
| That heals the wound and cures not the disgrace: |
| Nor can thy shame give physic to my grief; |
| Though thou repent, yet I have still the loss: |
| The offender's sorrow lends but weak relief |
| To him that bears the strong offence's cross. |
| Ah! but those tears are pearl which thy love sheds, |
| And they are rich and ransom all ill deeds. |
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