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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 even 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 flatt’ry! Then she loves but me alone. |
The fact that you now have my mistress isn’t the only reason I’m hurt, though it’s true that I loved her dearly. What makes me cry the most is that now she has you, a loss of love that hurts me even more. You two criminals in love, here’s how I’ll rationalize the pain you’ve caused me: You, friend, love her because you know I love her. And she loves you for the exact same reason, putting up with your praises and lovemaking for my sake, because she knows you’re my friend. If I lose you, it’s a win for my mistress. And if I lose her, you will have found what I’ve lost. Both of the people I love find each other, and I lose them both, and both cause me this pain. But here’s what makes me happy: My friend and I are one person. How gratifying!—It turns out my mistress loves only me. |