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Take all my loves, my love, yea, take them all:Take All My Loves, My Love, Yea, Take Them All
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 this self 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.
Take all my affections, my dear, yes, take them all: What do you have now that you didn't have before? No affection, my dear, that you can call true love— All that was mine was yours before you had this extra. Then if you accept my love for my love, I cannot blame you for using my love; But be blamed if you deceive yourself By deliberately indulging in what you refuse. I forgive your theft, gentle thief, Even though you steal all my meager possessions; And yet love knows it is a greater sorrow To endure love's wrong than hate's known harm. Lustful charm, in whom all evil appears good, Harm me with spite, yet we must not be enemies.