السلام عليكم و رحمة الله و بركاته 
When my love swears that she is made of truth
I do believe her, though I know she lies,
When my love swears that she is made of truth
I do believe her, though I know she lies,
That she might think me some untutor'd youth
,
Unlearned in the world's false subtleties
.
Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young
,
Although she knows my days are past the best
,
Simply I credit her false speaking tongue
:
On both sides thus is simple truth suppress'd
.
But wherefore says she not she is unjust
?
And wherefore say not I that I am old
?
O, love's best habit is in seeming trust
,
And age in love loves not to have years told
:
Therefore I lie with her and she with me
,
And in our faults by lies we flatter'd be.
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