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XLII.
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.
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