Let Me Confess That We Two Must Be Twain, Although Our Undivided Loves Are One: So Shall Those Blots That Do With Me Remain, Without Thy Help, By Me Be Borne Alone. In Our Two Loves There Is But One Respect, Though In Our Lives A Separable Spite, Which Though It Alter Not Love'S Sole Effect, Yet Doth It Steal Sweet Hours From Love'S Delight. I May Not Evermore Acknowledge Thee, Lest My Bewailed Guilt Should Do Thee Shame, Nor Thou With Public Kindness Honour Me, Unless Thou Take That Honour From Thy Name: But Do Not So, I Love Thee In Such Sort, As Thou Being Mine, Mine Is Thy Good Report.