When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past
And look upon myself and curse my fate
For that same groan doth put this in my mind
My grief lies onward and my joy be behind
When I have seen such interchange of state,
My state itself confounded to decay
Ruin hath taught me thus to ruminate
Past cure I am now reason is past care
Frantic mad with evermore unrest,
Tired with all these, for restful death I cry
No longer mourn for me when I'm dead
That I in your sweet thoughts want to be forget