Sonnet 136

If thy soul cheque thee that I come so near,Swear to thy blind soul that I was thy 'Will,'And will, thy soul knows, is admitted there;Thus far for love my love-suit, sweet, fulfil.'Will' will fulfil the treasure of thy love,Ay, fill it full with wills, and my will one.In things of great receipt with ease we proveAmong a number one is reckon'd none:Then in the number let me pass untold,Though in thy stores' account I one must be;For nothing hold me, so it please thee holdThat nothing me, a something sweet to thee: Make but my name thy love, and love that still, And then thou lovest me, for my name is 'Will.'
This sonnet will be limericked on June 28, 2021. Come back then!