In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes,For they in thee a thousand errors note;But 'tis my heart that loves what they despise,Who in despite of view is pleased to dote;Nor are mine ears with thy tongue's tune delighted,Nor tender feeling, to base touches prone,Nor taste, nor smell, desire to be invitedTo any sensual feast with thee alone:But my five wits nor my five senses canDissuade one foolish heart from serving thee,Who leaves unsway'd the likeness of a man,Thy proud hearts slave and vassal wretch to be:Only my plague thus far I count my gain,That she that makes me sin awards me pain.