Take all my loves

Take all my loves, my love, yay, take them all,
What hast thou then more than thou hadst before?
No love, my love that thou may’st true love call,
All mine was thine, before thou hadst this more:
Then if for my love,thou my love recievest,
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 thirf,
Although thy steal thee all my poverty;
And yet love knows it is a greater grief
To bear love’s wrong than hate’s known injury.
Lacsivious grace, in whom all ill well shows
Kill me with spights yet we must not be foes.

Sonnet 40