Yet many will conjecture much amiss,
Because my love so slowly is requited,
Each spiteful Satyr will surmise by this,
Thou hat'st me 'cause my pains have thee delighted;
But let them please themselves with thought thereof,
And with their wits ascribe their own applause,
I free from anger at their harms will laugh, --
For some vex most when none will give them cause, --
That when thou seest how loyal I am thine,
Thou may'st conceive the greatest harm is mine.
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Other Poems of Interest...
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