If thy soul check thee that I come so near, 
 Swear to thy blind soul that I was thy Will, 
 And will, thy soul knows, is admitted there. 
 
 Thus far for love my love-suit, sweet, fulfil. 
 Will will fulfil the treasure of thy love, 
 Ay, fill it full with wills, and my will one. 
 
 In things of great receipt with ease we prove 
 Among a number one is reckoned none. 
 Then in the number let me pass untold. 
 
 Though in thy store's account I one must be, 
 For nothing hold me, so it please thee hold 
 That nothing me, a something sweet to thee. 
 
 Make but my name thy love, and love that still, 
 And then thou lovest me for my name is 'Will.' 

            (Paraphrase)