Sonnet 42

That thou hast her, it is not all my grief, 
And yet it may be said I loved her dearly;
That she hath thee, is of my wailing chief,
A loss in love that touches me more nearly.

Loving offenders, thus I will excuse ye:
Thou dost love her, because thou knowst I love her,
And for my sake ev'n so doth she abuse me,
Suff'ring my friend for my sake to approve her.

If I lose thee, my loss is my love's gain,
And losing her, my friend hath found that loss.
Both find each other, and I lose both twain,
And both for my sake lay on me this cross.

But here's the joy; my friend and I are one.
Sweet flattery! then she loves but me alone.