The Sonnets

That you were once unkind befriends me now,

And for that sorrow, which I then did feel,

Needs must I under my transgression bow,

Unless my nerves were brass or hammerʼd steel.

For if you were by my unkindness shaken,

As I by yours, youʼve passʼd a hell of time;

And I, a tyrant, have no leisure taken

To weigh how once I sufferʼd in your crime.

O! that our night of woe might have rememberʼd

My deepest sense, how hard true sorrow hits,

And soon to you, as you to me, then tenderʼd

The humble salve, which wounded bosoms fits!

But that your trespass now becomes a fee;

Mine ransoms yours, and yours must ransom me.