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

The Passionate Pilgrim, I.

“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, 
Unskilful in the world’s false forgeries. 
Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,         5
Although I know my years be past the best, 
I smiling credit her false-speaking tongue, 
Outfacing faults in love with love’s ill rest. 
But wherefore says my love that she is young? 
And wherefore say not I that I am old?  10
O! love’s best habit is a soothing tongue, 
And age, in love, loves not to have years told. 
  Therefore I ’ll lie with love, and love with me, 
  Since that our faults in love thus smother’d be. 


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