Sonnet Cxliv:

For thy dear safety, not for mine own ease, I am thus kindly cruel, unhappy girl! Securer far than thine, my lips may curl Against a world I never sought to please. I never moved to win that prosperous breeze Blown by the tainted breath of jade and churl; Back in their teeth my name's report I hurl; I seek no patent from such things as these. But thou--Ah! there some spirit pulls me back; Sets the hard ashes of my cheeks aflame, At the bare mention of thy sacred name. I would not see its lucid crystal black, Flawed or bedimmed with any mist of shame, To save my body from the headsman's rack.