The Love Sonnets of Proteus, Juliet, XLIX: The same continued

A " woman with a past." What happier omen
Could heart desire for mistress or for friend '.
Phoenix of friends, and most divine of women,
Skilled in all fence to venture or defend
And with love's science at your fingers' end,
No tears to vex, no ignorance to be
A fancy ripe, the zest which sorrows lend ! —
I would to God we had not met before !
— I would to God ! and yet to God I would
That we had never met. To see you thus
Is grief and wounds and poison to my blood.
Oh, this is sacrilege and foul abuse.
You were a thing for honour not vile use,
Not for the mad world's wicked sinks and stews.