O, lest the world should task you to recite
What merit lived in me, that you should love
After my death, dear love forget me quite
For you in me can nothing worthy prove
Unless you would devise some virtuous lie
To do more for me than mine own desert
And hang more praise upon deceased I
Than niggard truth would willingly impart
O lest your true love may seem false in this
That you for love speak well of me untrue
My name be buried where my body is
And live no more to shame nor me or you
For I am shamed by that which I bring forth
And so should you to love things nothing worth