Sonnet Xlii

William Shakespeare

     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 knowst I love her;
     And for my sake even so doth she abuse me,
     Suffering 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 alone.

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