- 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 heart’s slave and vassal wretch to be:
- Only my plague thus far I count my gain,
- That she that makes me sin awards me pain.