Sonnet 136

If thy soul check 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, fulfill. Will will fulfill the treasure of thy love, Ay, fill it full with wills, and my will one. In things of great receipt with ease we prove Among a number one is reckon'd none: Then in the number let me pass untold, Though in thy store's account I one must be, For nothing hold me, so it please thee hold That 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.