Act I, Scene 34

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• Shakespeare. Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day,
  And make me travel forth without my cloak,
  To let base clouds o'ertake me in my way, 465
  Hiding thy bravery in their rotten smoke?
  'Tis not enough that through the cloud thou break,
  To dry the rain on my storm-beaten face,
  For no man well of such a salve can speak
  That heals the wound and cures not the disgrace: 470
  Nor can thy shame give physic to my grief;
  Though thou repent, yet I have still the loss:
  The offender's sorrow lends but weak relief
  To him that bears the strong offence's cross.
  Ah! but those tears are pearl which thy love sheds, 475
  And they are rich and ransom all ill deeds.