Sonnet 10

You rob me of my mind. My sense is gone.

But, with my common sense, has flown my pride.
My least delightful armour I shall don
And give you reason to avoid my side.
It fits into your plot: for she will cry,
E’en though she does not know we shared a kiss.
I shall not tell. I would not be so sly,
Although I think you capable of this.
If all the world were stricken by a plague
Affecting only men, and you remained,
You would not be my choice. I would not beg,
As she has done, with nothing ever gained.
You win the ladies’ hearts with awful ease.
You’ll have to work, if I’m the one to please.