Every conception that a man can find
is in the stone itself, already there
concealed in excess, but will still require
a hand to free it that obeys the mind.
And you, like marble, lady without peer,
hold possibilities of every kind;
you hold the good I want and pain I fear,
though I effect the opposite of my design.
I won't claim Love's to blame for this, or Chance,
or fault your beauty or demanding will,
or blame unequal birth and circumstance;
I'll say that mercy and annihilation both
were waiting in your heart, and there my skill
cannot discover anything but death.