The Sonnets

Alas! ʼtis true, I have gone here and there,

And made my self a motley to the view,

Gorʼd mine own thoughts, sold cheap what is most dear,

Made old offences of affections new;

Most true it is, that I have lookʼd on truth

Askance and strangely; but, by all above,

These blenches gave my heart another youth,

And worse essays provʼd thee my best of love.

Now all is done, save what shall have no end:

Mine appetite I never more will grind

On newer proof, to try an older friend,

A god in love, to whom I am confinʼd.

Then give me welcome, next my heaven the best,

Even to thy pure and most most loving breast.