That thou hast her, it is not all my grief,
And yet it may be said I loved her dearly,
That she hath thee, is of my wailing chief,
A loss in love that touches me more nearly.
Loving offender, thus I will excuse ye,
Thou dost love her, because thou knowst 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,
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.
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