Sonnets

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Act I, Scene 40

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  • Shakespeare. 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. 550
    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, 555
    Although thou steal thee all my poverty;
    And yet, love knows, it is a greater grief
    To bear love's wrong than hate's known injury.
    Lascivious grace, in whom all ill well shows,
    Kill me with spites; yet we must not be foes. 560

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