Sonnet Cccxiii:

By thy own truth, Beloved, I am true! I swear by that in which I most believe; Explore thy heart; if there thou canst perceive A taint of weakness, that far charge me too. I knew at starting--ah! too well I knew, And trembled at the knowledge--on that eve When my first kisses made thy bosom heave, That staid reflection might thy faith undo. I must admit, it seems a strange abuse That one like me is privileged to bear Love's sacred essence with thee, share for share. Olympian nectar, in a peasant's cruse, Would make clay holy by its holy use, A common stock with sculptured gold compare.