Sunday, October 25, 2015

Sonnet CXLII (142)

Love is my sin and thy dear virtue hate, 
Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving:
O, but with mine compare thou thine own state,
And thou shalt find it merits not reproving; 
Or, if it do, not from those lips of thine,
That have profaned their scarlet ornaments 
And seal'd false bonds of love as oft as mine, 
Robb'd others' beds' revenues of their rents. 
Be it lawful I love thee, as thou lovest those 
Whom thine eyes woo as mine importune thee: 
Root pity in thy heart, that when it grows 
Thy pity may deserve to pitied be. 
   If thou dost seek to have what thou dost hide,
   By self-example mayst thou be denied!

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