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William Shakespeare, Sonnet li

Thus can my love excuse the slow offence
Of my dull bearer, when from thee I speed:
From where thou art why should I haste me thence?
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Till I return, of posting is no need.
O what excuse will my poor beast then find,
When swift extremity can seem but slow?
Theen should I spur, though mounted on the wind;
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In winged speed no motion shall I know:
Then can no horse with my desire keep pace;
Therefore desire, of perfect'st love being made,
Shall neigh (no dull flesh) in his fiery race;
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But love, for love, thus shall excuse my jade;
Since from thee going he went wilful slow,
Towards thee I'll run, and give him leave to go.