Shakespeare's Sonnets Translation Sonnet 40
Take all my loves, my love; yea, take them all. What hast thou then more than thou hadst before? No love, my love, that thou mayst true love call. All mine was thine before thou hadst this more. Then if for my love thou my love receivest, I cannot blame thee, for my love thou usest. But yet be blamed, if thou thyself deceivest By wilful taste of what thyself refusest. I do forgive thy robb'ry, gentle thief, Although thou steal thee all my poverty; And yet love knows it is a greater grief To bear love’s wrong than hate’s known injury. Lascivious grace, in whom all ill well shows, Kill me with spites; yet we must not be foes.
Take all my loves, my love; yes, take them all.
What have you now, that you didn't have before?
No love, my love, that you could call true love.
All that is mine was yours before you gained this additional thing.
Then if you take my lover for my love,
I cannot blame you, since you are making use of my love.
But you are still to be blamed, if you are deceiving yourself
By tasting what you yourself refuse.
I forgive you for stealing, noble thief,
Although you steal for yourself what little I have.
Nevertheless love knows that it is a greater sorrow
To be hurt by a mistake of love than an intentional injury of hate.
Lustful beauty, in which every bad thing looks good,
Kills me with insults. But we must not be enemies.