In faith I do not love thee with mine eyes

For they in thee a thousand errors note;

But 'tis my heart that loves what they despise

Who in despite of view is pleased to dote;

Nor are mine ears with thy

Tongue's tune delighted

Nor tender feeling to base touches prone

Nor taste nor smell desire to be invited

To any sensual feast with thee alone:

But my five wits nor my five senses can

Dissuade one foolish heart from serving thee

Who leaves unsway'd the likeness of a man

Thy proud hearts slave

And vassal wretch to be:

Only my plague thus far I count my gain

That she that makes me sin awards me pain

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