Sonnet 45 - Good now be still

Good now be still, and do not me torment

With multitudes of questions; be at rest,

And only let me quarrel with my breast

Which still lets in new storms my soul to rent.

Fie, will you still my mischiefs more augment?

You say I answer cross, I that confessed

Long since, yet must I ever be oppressed

With your tongue-torture which will ne'er be spent?

Well then I see no way but this will fright

That Devil speech; alas I am possessed,

And mad folks senseless are of wisdom's right,

The hellish spirit absence doth arrest

All my poor senses to his cruel might;

Spare me then till I am myself, and blest.