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 fulfill.
Will, will fulfill the treasure of thy love, I fill it full with wills, and my will one, In things of great receipt with ease we prove, Among a number one is reckon'd 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 hold, That nothing me, a something sweet to thee.
Make but my name thy love, and love that still, And then thou lovest me for my name is Will.
