| 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. | |
| Then, if for my love thou my love receivest, | 5 |
| I cannot blame thee for my love thou usest; | |
| But yet be blam’d, if thou thyself deceivest | |
| By wilful taste of what thyself refusest. | |
| I do forgive thy robbery, gentle thief, | |
| Although thou steal thee all my poverty; | 10 |
| 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. |