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

Sonnet CXXXVIII.

“When my love swears that she is made of truth”


WHEN my love swears that she is made of truth 
I do believe her, though I know she lies, 
That she might think me some untutor’d youth, 
Unlearned in the world’s false subtleties. 
Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,         5
Although she knows my days are past the best, 
Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue: 
On both sides thus is simple truth supprest. 
But wherefore says she not she is unjust? 
And wherefore say not I that I am old?  10
O! love’s best habit is in seeming trust, 
And age in love loves not to have years told: 
  Therefore I lie with her, and she with me, 
  And in our faults by lies we flatter’d be. 


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