Sonnet 136
If thy soul check thee that I come so near,Swear to thy blind soul that I was thy Will,And will, thy soul knows, is admitted there;Thus far for love, my love-suit, sweet, fulfil.
Will will fulfil the treasure of thy love,Ay, fill it full with wills, and my will one;In things of great receipt with ease we proveAmong a number one is reckoned none.
Then in the number let me pass untold,Though in thy store’s account I one must be;For nothing hold me, so it please thee holdThat nothing me, a something sweet to thee.
Make but my name thy love, and love that still,And then thou lov’st me, for my name is Will.