SONNET 136.

If thy soul check thee that I come so near,
Swear to thy blind soul that I was thy 'Will,'
And will, thy soul knows, is admitted there;
Thus far for love, my love-suit, sweet, fulfil.
'Will' will fulfil the treasure of thy love,
Ay, fill it full with wills, and my will one.
In things of great receipt with ease we prove
Among a number one is reckon'd none:
Then in the number let me pass untold,
Though in thy store's account I one must be;
For nothing hold me, so it please thee hold
That nothing me, a something sweet to thee:

Make but my name thy love, and love that still,
And then thou lovest me, for my name is 'Will.'

If your soul check (annoy) when I come near, swear to your soul that I was your 'Will' (your love), and will (love) your soul knows, is admitted there (in your soul); thus for love, fulfil my love-suit, sweet. (Wine.)

'Will' (I) will fulfill the treasure of your love, will it full with wills (love), and my will (love) one. In things of great receipt we prove among a number one is reckoned none: (Evidently referring to computations by addition and subtraction. Thus, to 27 add 10 and the sum will be 87, yet counting and beginning at 27 and ending with 87, we shall have 11. In order to arrive at a correct result one of the numbers must be counted out, or 'reckoned none.") Then in the number (of your lovers) let me pass untold, though in your stores account (affections) I must be one; for nothing hold (count) me, so you hold (count) that nothing me, and that a something sweet to you.

Make but my name your love, and love that still, and then you love me, for my name is 'Will.'

SONNET 137.

Thou blind fool, Love, what dost thou to mine eyes,
That they behold, and see not what they see?
They know what beauty is, see where it lies,
Yet what the best is take the worst to be.
If eyes, corrupt by over-partial looks,

Be anchor'd in the bay where all men ride,
Why of eyes' falsehood hast thou forged hooks,
Whereto the judgement of my heart is tied?
Why should my heart think that a several plot
Which my heart knows the wide world's common place?
Or mine eyes seeing this, say this is not,

To put fair truth upon so foul a face?

In things right true my heart and eyes have erred,
And to this false plague are they now transferred.

You blind fool love, Wine, what do you to my eyes, that they behold and see not what they see? They know what beauty is, see where it lies (see and understand it) yet take the best to be the worst.

If eyes corrupt (misinterpret) by over-partial looks, be anchored in the bay where all men ride (must exist where all men exsit, and under the same conditions) why of eye's falsehoods (misinterpretations) have you forged hooks, whereto the judgment of my heart is tied? (That holds my judgment to these false ideas.)

Why should my heart think that a several (exclusive) plot, which my heart knows is the whole world's common place (open to all the world)? Or my eyes seeing this (falsehood), say this is not (done) to put truth upon so foul a face?

In things true my heart and eyes have erred, and to this false plague (deception) are they now transferred (converted).

SONNET 138.

When my love swears that she is made of truth,
I do believe her, though I know she lies,

That she might think me some untutor'd youth,
Unlearned in the world's false subtleties.

Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,
Although she knows my days are past the best,
Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue:
On both sides thus is simple truth suppress'd.
But wherefore says she not she is unjust?
And wherefore say not I that I am old?
O' love's best habit is in seeming trust,
And age in love loves not to have years told:
Therefore I lie with her and she with me,
And in our faults by lies we flatter'd be.

When Wine, my love, says she is made of truth I believe her, though I know she lies; she treats me as though I were an untutored youth unlearned in the world's subtleties.

Thus pretending that she thinks me young, although she knows my days are past the best, simply (foolishly) I credit her false-speaking tongue: thus on both sides is truth suppressed.

But why does she not say she is unjust? And why do I not say I am old? O love's best habit is to pretend to trust, and love does not like to have years told.

Therefore I lie with her and she with me, and each by lies is flattered.

SONNET 139.

O call not me to justify the wrong

That thy unkindness lays upon my heart;

Wound me not with thine eye, but with thy tongue;
Use power with power, and slay me not by art.
Tell me thou lovest elsewhere; but in my sight,
Dear heart, forbear to glance thine eye aside:

What need'st thou wound with cunning, when thy might
Is more than my o'er-pressed defence can bide?
Let me excuse thee: ah, my love well knows
Her pretty looks have been mine enemies;
And therefore from my face she turns my foes,
That they elsewhere might dart their injuries:
Yet do not so; but since I am near slain,

Kill me outright with looks, and rid my pain.

O, Wine, ask me not to justify the wrong, that your unkindness lays upon my heart; wound me not with your eye (thoughts) but with your tongue; use power with power (strength with determination) and slay me not with art. (Subterfuge.)

Tell me you love others, but in my presence forbear to glance your eye aside; why wound me with cunning when your might is more than I can defend against?

Let me excuse you: my love well knows how pretty looks (wine's fascinations) has been my enemies, and therefore from my face she turns my foes, (artfully disguising her attacks) that they elsewhere (than to my face) might dart their injuries.

Yet do not so; but since I am so near slain, kill me outright with looks, (openly) and rid my pain.

SONNET 140.

Be wise as thou art cruel; do not press

My tongue-tied patience with too much disdain;
Lest sorrow lend me words, and words express
The manner of my pity-wanting pain.

If I might teach thee wit, better it were,
Though not to love, yet, love, to tell me so;
As testy sick men, when their deaths be near,
No news but health from their physicians know;
For, if I should despair, I should grow mad,
And in my madness might speak ill of thee:
Now this ill-wresting world is grown so bad,
Mad slanderers by mad ears believed be.

That I may not be so, nor thou belied,

Bear thine eyes straight, though thy proud heart go wide.

Wine, be wise as you are cruel; do not press my tongue-tied (uncomplaining) patience with too much disdain; lest sorrow lend me words to express the manner of your pitiless inflictions.

If I might be permitted to teach you wit, it were better, though you do not love, to tell me that you do, as dying men are encouraged by their physicians;

For if I should despair, I should grow mad, and in my madness might speak ill of you: now this ill-wresting world has grown so bad, that mad slanderers are believed.

That I may not be so (a slanderer) nor you belied, bear your eyes straight, (pretend to be honest) though your proud heart go wide.