LONELY ME

Never doubt I have been so lonely

merely surround me

When my love swears that he is made of truth,

I do believe him, though I know he lies,

That he might think me some untutor'd youth,

Unlearned in the world's false subtleties.

Thus vainly thinking that he thinks me young,

Although he knows my days are past the best,

Simply I credit him false-speaking tongue:

On both sides thus is simple truth supprest.

But wherefore says he not he is unjust?

And wherefore say not I that I am old?

love's best habit is in seeming trust,

And age in love loves not to have years told:

Therefore I lie , And in our faults by lies we flatter'd, be.