William Shakespeare. 1564–1616

Sonnet XLII.

“That thou hast her it is not all my grief”

THAT thou hast her, it is not all my grief  
And yet it may be said I lov’d 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:    5
Thou dost love her, because thou know’st 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;   10
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.