Sonnet LI

Thus can my love excuse the slow offence	1
Of my dull bearer when from thee I speed:	2
From where thou art why should I haste me thence?	3
Till I return, of posting is no need.	4
O, what excuse will my poor beast then find,	5
When swift extremity can seem but slow?	6
Then should I spur, though mounted on the wind;	7
In winged speed no motion shall I know:	8
Then can no horse with my desire keep pace;	9
Therefore desire of perfect'st love being made,	10
Shall neigh--no dull flesh--in his fiery race;	11
But love, for love, thus shall excuse my jade;	12
Since from thee going he went wilful-slow,	13
Towards thee I'll run, and give him leave to go.	14