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William Shakespeare (1564–1616).  The Oxford Shakespeare: Poems.  1914.

Sonnet XLII.

“That thou hast her it is not all my grief”


THAT thou hast her, it is not all my grief 
And yet it may be said I lov’d 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:         5
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;  10
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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