William Shakespeare. 1564–1616

Sonnet CXXXVI.

“If thy soul check thee that I come so near”

IF thy soul check thee that I come so near  
Swear to thy blind soul that I was thy Will,  
And will, thy soul knows, is admitted there;  
Thus far for love, my love-suit, sweet, fulfil.  
Will will fulfil the treasure of thy love,    5
Ay, fill it full with wills, and my will one.  
In things of great receipt with ease we prove  
Among a number one is reckon’d none:  
Then in the number let me pass untold,  
Though in thy stores’ account I one must be;   10
For nothing hold me, so it please thee hold  
That nothing me, a something sweet to thee:  
  Make but my name thy love, and love that still,  
  And then thou lov’st me,—for my name is Will.