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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 offenders, thus I will excuse ye

Thou dost love her, because thou know’st I love her

And for my sake even so doth she abuse me,

Suff’ring 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 alon