Sonnet Cclxiii:

I will not have our holy love profaned By that untruth which slanders as impure The rites we keep, however far they lure The twain by whom the sacred cup is drained. Love is the faith; who swerves, should be arraigned; Even if the sin be done in lines secure Of legal contract, 'tis a crime as sure Against the law which nature's self ordained. But love once granted, all that follows thence-- The fervid kiss, the interlocked caress-- Is heavenly pure to love's most dainty sense. May not the temple's priest and priestess press The burning grapes of joy, without distress To gods whose promptings chartered the offense?