Take all my loues, my loue, yea take them all;
What hast thou then more then thou hadst before?
No loue, my loue, that thou maist true loue call,
All mine was thine, before thou hadst this more:
Then if for my loue thou my loue receiuest,
I cannot blame thee, for my loue thou vsest;
But yet be blam’d, if thou thy selfe deceauest
By wilfull taste of what thy selfe refusest.
I doe forgiue thy robb’rie, gentle theefe,
Although thou steale thee all my pouerty;
And yet loue knowes it is a greater griefe
To beare loues wrong then hates knowne iniury.
Lasciuious grace, in whom all il wel showes,
Kill me with spights, yet we must not be foes.
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,
I cannot blame thee, for my love thou usest;
But yet be blamed, if thou thyself deceivest
By wilful taste of what thyself refusest.
I do forgive thy robb’ry, gentle thief,
Although thou steal thee all my poverty;
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.