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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