Take All My Loves, My Love, Yea Take Them All; What Hast Thou Then More Than Thou Hadst Before? No Love, My Love, That Thou Mayst True Love Call; All Mine Was Thine, Before Thou Hadst This More. Then, If For My Love, Thou My Love Receivest, I Cannot Blame Thee, For My Love Thou Usest; But Yet Be Blam'D, If Thou Thy Self Deceivest By Wilful Taste Of What Thyself Refusest. I Do Forgive Thy Robbery, Gentle Thief, Although Thou Steal Thee All My Poverty: And Yet, Love Knows It Is A Greater Grief To Bear Greater Wrong, Than Hate'S Known Injury. Lascivious Grace, In Whom All Ill Well Shows, Kill Me With Spites Yet We Must Not Be Foes.