Sonnet 9 - Pray do not use these words: 'I must be gone,'

Pray do not use these words: 'I must be gone,'

Alas do not foretell my ills to come,

Let not my care be to my joys a tomb,

But rather find my loss with loss alone;

Cause me not thus a more distressed one

Not feeling bliss for fear of this sad doom

Of present cross, for thinking will o'ercome,

And lose all pleasure, since grief breedeth none;

Let the misfortune come at once to me,

Nor suffer me with pain to punished be,

Let me be ignorant of mine own ill

Than now with the foreknowledge quite to lose

That which with so much care, and pains love chose

For his reward, but joy now, then mirth kill.