O how thy worth with manners may I sing, When thou art all the better part of me? What can mine own praise to mine own self bring: And what is’t but mine own when I praise thee? Even for this, let us divided live, And our dear love lose name of single one, That by this separation I may give: That due to thee which thou deserv’st alone: O absence what a torment wouldst thou prove, Were it not thy sour leisure gave sweet leave, To entertain the time with thoughts of love, Which time and thoughts so sweetly doth deceive. And that thou teachest how to make one twain, By praising him here who doth hence remain. 40 Take all my loves, my love, yea take them all, What hast thou then more than thou hadst before? No love, my love, that thou mayst true love call, All mine was thine, before thou hadst this more: Then if for my love, thou my love receivest, I cannot blame thee, for my love thou usest, But yet be blamed, if thou thyself deceivest By wilful taste of what thyself refusest. I do forgive thy robbery gentle thief Although thou steal thee all my poverty: And yet love knows it is a greater grief To bear greater wrong, than hate’s known injury. Lascivious grace, in whom all ill well shows, Kill me with spites yet we must not be foes. 41 Those pretty wrongs that liberty commits, When I am sometime absent from thy heart, Thy beauty, and thy years full well befits, For still temptation follows where thou art. Gentle thou art, and therefore to be won, Beauteous thou art, therefore to be assailed. And when a woman woos, what woman’s son, Will sourly leave her till he have prevailed? Ay me, but yet thou mightst my seat forbear, And chide thy beauty, and thy straying youth, Who lead thee in their riot even there Where thou art forced to break a twofold truth: Hers by thy beauty tempting her to thee, Thine by thy beauty being false to me. 42 That thou hast her it is not all my grief, And yet it may be said I loved her dearly, That she hath thee is of my wailing chief, A loss in love that touches me more nearly. Loving offenders thus I will excuse ye, Thou dost love her, because thou know’st I love her, And for my sake even so doth she abuse me, Suff’ring my friend for my sake to approve her. If I lose thee, my loss is my love’s gain, And losing her, my friend hath found that loss, Both find each other, and I lose both twain, And both for my sake lay on me this cross, But here’s the joy, my friend and I are one, Sweet flattery, then she loves but me alone. 43