Sonnet 34. Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day

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

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: