Sonnet 66

B: Go get thee heart from hence, for thou hast prou'd The hatefull traitor that procur'd my fall. H: May I not yet once satisfie for all, Whose loyaltie may make thee to be lou'd? B: Ile neuer trust one that hath once betraid me: For once a traitor, and then neuer true. H: Yet would my wracke but make thee first to rue, That could trust none if thou hadst once dismaid me. B: How euer others make me for to smart, I scorne to haue an enemie in my brest. H: Well, if that thou spoile me, Ile spoile thy rest, Want I a bodie, thou shalt want a heart: Thus do th'vnhappie still augment their harmes, And thou hast kild thy selfe with thine owne armes.