Love Turned to Hatred

I will not love one minute more, I swear, No, not a minute; not a sigh or tear Thou get'st from me, or one kind look again, Though thou shouldst court me to 't and wouldst begin. I will not think of thee but as men do Of debts and sins, and then I'll curse thee too: For thy sake woman shall be now to me Less welcome, than at midnight ghosts shall be: I'll hate so perfectly, that it shall be Treason to love that man that loves a she; Nay, I will hate the very good, I swear, That's in thy sex, because it doth lie there; Their very virtue, grace, discourse, and wit, And all for thee; what, wilt thou love me yet?