Sonnet 42: “That thou hast her it is not all my grief…”

That thou hast her it is not all my grief,
 And yet it may be said I loved her dearly,
 That she hath thee is of my wailing chief,
 A loss in love that touches me more nearly.  
 Loving offenders thus I will excuse ye,
 Thou dost love her, because thou know'st I love her,
 And for my sake even so doth she abuse me,
 Suff'ring my friend for my sake to approve her.
 If I lose thee, my loss is my love's gain,
 And losing her, my friend hath found that loss,
 Both find each other, and I lose both twain,
 And both for my sake lay on me this cross,
 But here's the joy, my friend and I are one,
 Sweet flattery, then she loves but me alone.