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William Shakespeare, 1564-1616 [1640], Poems: vvritten by Wil. Shake-speare. Gent (Printed... by Tho. Cotes, and are to be sold by Iohn Benson [etc.], London) [word count] [S11600].

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A Lovers excuse for his long absence. [Sonnet CIX / Sonnet CX]
O never say that I was false of heart,
Though absence seem'd my flame to quallifie,
As easie might I from my selfe depart,
As from my soule which in thy brest doth lye:
That is my home of love, if I have rang'd,
Like him that travels I returne againe,
Iust to the time, not with the time exchang'd,
So that my selfe bring water for my staine,
Never beleeve though in my nature raign'd,
All frailties that besiege all kinds of blood,
That it could so preposterously be stain'd,
To leave for nothing all thy summe of good:
For nothing this wide Vniverse I call,
Save thou my Rose, in it thou art my all.
Alas 'tis true, I have gone here and there,
And made my selfe a motley to the view,
Gor'd mine owne thoughts, sold cheape what is most deare,
Made old offences of affections new.
Most true it is, that I have lookt on truth
Asconce and strangely: But by all above,

-- --

These blenches gave my heart another youth,
And worse assaies prou'd thee my best of love,
Now all is done, have what shall have no end,
Mine appetite I never more will grinde
On newer proofe, to trie an older friend,
A God in love, to whom I am confin'd.
Then give me welcome, next my heaven the best,
Even to thy pure and most most loving brest.
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William Shakespeare, 1564-1616 [1640], Poems: vvritten by Wil. Shake-speare. Gent (Printed... by Tho. Cotes, and are to be sold by Iohn Benson [etc.], London) [word count] [S11600].