In this witty, paradoxical address, Donne’s speaker tells his beloved exactly what not to do: first, don’t love him, because if he dies from that love, her affection would be wasted. Then, don’t hate him, because killing him with hatred would rob her of her power as a conqueror. But halfway through, the logic swerves — he suddenly asks her to love and hate him at the same time, so he can die gently from love while her hatred, being too much, balances it out. The real goal becomes clear: he wants both extremes so that he can remain her living “stage,” a permanent object of her attention, rather than a fleeting triumph. The mood is restless and playful, a tightrope walk between self-deprecation and seduction. Underneath the clever reversals, there’s a genuine ache: the speaker craves her constant feeling, even if it means being consumed by it.
The Prohibition — Summary
Take heed of loving me; At least remember I forbade it thee; Not that I shall repair my unthrifty waste Of breath and blood, upon thy sighs and tears, By being to thee then what to me thou wast; But so great joy our life at once outwears; Then, lest thy love by my death frustrate be, If thou love me, take heed of loving me.
Take heed of hating me, Or too much triumph in the victory; Not that I shall be mine own officer, And hate with hate again retaliate; But thou wilt lose the style of conqueror If I, thy conquest, perish by thy hate; Then, lest my being nothing lessen thee, If thou hate me, take heed of hating me.
Yet, love and hate me too; So, these extremes shall neither's office do; Love me, that I may die the gentler way; Hate me, because thy love is too great for me; Or let these two themselves, not me, decay; So shall I live thy stage, not triumph be; Lest thou thy love and hate and me undo, To let me live, O love and hate me too.