THE SONNETS by William Shakespeare (42)

 XLII

    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 wailing¹ chief, A loss in love that touches me more nearly. Loving offenders² 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, 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.