Sonnet 27 - Hope, why do you still rebel?

Fie tedious Hope, why do you still rebel?

Is it not yet enough you flattered me?

But cunningly you seek to use a spell

How to betray, must these your trophies be?

I looked from you far sweeter fruit to see

But blasted were your blossoms when they fell,

And those delights expected late from thee

Withered, and dead, and what seemed bliss proves Hell.

No town was won by a more plotted slight

Than I by you, who may my fortune write

In embers of that fire which ruined me,

Thus Hope, your falsehood calls you to be tried

You're loath, I see, the trial to abide;

Prove true at last, and I will set thee free.