Sonnet 122

Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brainFull character'd with lasting memory,Which shall above that idle rank remainBeyond all date, even to eternity;Or at the least, so long as brain and heartHave faculty by nature to subsist;Till each to razed oblivion yield his partOf thee, thy record never can be miss'd.That poor retention could not so much hold,Nor need I tallies thy dear love to score;Therefore to give them from me was I bold,To trust those tables that receive thee more: To keep an adjunct to remember thee Were to import forgetfulness in me.
I don't write to spur recollectionof love or of my love's perfection.I can always recallhow you keep me in thrall;I write to solicit affection.