When my loue sweares that she is made of truth,
I do beleeue her though I know she lyes,
That she might thinke me some vntuterd youth,
Vnlearned in the worlds false subtilties.
Thus vainely thinking that she thinkes me young,
Although she knowes my dayes are past the best,
Simply I credit her false speaking tongue,
On both sides thus is simple truth supprest:
But wherefore sayes she not she is vniust?
And wherefore say not I that I am old?
O loues best habit is in seeming trust,
And age in loue, loues not t’haue yeares told.
Therefore I lye with her, and she with me,
And in our faults by lyes we flattered be.
When my love swears that she is made of truth,
I do believe her, though I know she lies,
That she might think me some untutored youth,
Unlearned in the world’s false subtleties.
Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,
Although she knows my days are past the best,
Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue;
On both sides thus is simple truth suppressed.
But wherefore says she not she is unjust?
And wherefore say not I that I am old?
O love’s best habit is in seeming trust,
And age in love loves not t’have years told:
Therefore I lie with her, and she with me,
And in our faults by lies we flattered be.
[The Passionate Pilgrime (1599), I]
When my Loue sweares that she is made of truth,
I do beleeue her (though I know she lies)
That she might thinke me some vntutor’d youth,
Vnskilful in the worlds false forgeries.
Thus vainly thinking that she thinkes me young,
Although I know my yeares be past the best:
I smiling, credite her false speaking toung,
Outfacing faults in loue, with loues ill rest.
But wherefore sayes my loue that she is young?
And wherefore say not I, that I am old:
O, Loues best habit’s in a soothing toung,
And Age in Loue, loues not to haue yeares told.
Therfore I’le lye with Loue, and loue with me,
Since that our faultes in loue thus smother’d be.