Sonnet 138: When My Love Swears That He Is Made Of Truth

When my love swears that he 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.