Need we say\'st it teeming what we ponder. When the deceived and the deceiving hath distill\'d what is fair in the eye of esteem. Wherein we find a prouder pride in every morrow yonder. With which we decree the scorn\'d against our fault of faults to be redeem\'d. Doubt the scoundrel and doubt his treason. For under every oath given that invokes my use. Doubt not my love true and love\'s true reason. Thou truly praised be and wert alone my sweet muse. As on what tyrant offence hath outbrave\'d the worst of wrongs, if not but now. Bearing thy vices burden with all love\'s truth would deem thee errors blot. To what spite hath men crown\'d upon thy brow. I withal mine grief this time mayest my untutor\'d tongue forsake what my gay defence could not.