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Sonnet CXXXVIII
When my love swears that she is made of truth
1
I do believe her, though I know she lies,
2
That she might think me some untutor'd youth,
3
Unlearned in the world's false subtleties.
4
Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,
5
Although she knows my days are past the best,
6
Simply I credit her false speaking tongue:
7
On both sides thus is simple truth suppress'd.
8
But wherefore says she not she is unjust?
9
And wherefore say not I that I am old?
10
O, love's best habit is in seeming trust,
11
And age in love loves not to have years told:
12
Therefore I lie with her and she with me,
13
And in our faults by lies we flatter'd be.
14