Sonnet XXIII -- A Folly

How, in all the world, may I describe
The weakness of thy heart and current beau?
What means exist that I may full deride
His paltry love and cease it even so?
Thy work and time alone I fail in my
Attempts to bring you to a reasoned course.
To fault as well thy love, thy caring eye
Is pointless and but makes my suff'ring worse.
The folly of thy heart so plain appears
That all may understand (they tell me so!)
And yet you heed them not.  My sudden fears
Are that you'll persevere -- please tell me, `No!'

	I wound with words but know, by Heav'n above,
	'Tis nought to how you've wounded me in love.