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 knowst
I love her;
And for my sake even so doth she abuse
me,
Suffering 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.
View all
Shakespeare's Sonnets:
