My love for you is as a bad reputation –
    The more I endeavour to ruin it,
    The stronger it becomes.
Spare me the slow death of moderation –
    The more I think to hold my wit,
    The quicker it succumbs.

Sink to my depth, match offense with offense,
   Draw me as low as love spires high.
Call not your innocence to your defense –
   Sir-Reverence, let innocence lie.

For there is, after all, a truth to meanness
   To which nicety can scarce reply.
My love, my love, must be love no less
   For giving love the lie.