Sonnet 120

Shakespeare Sundays with Chop Bard

That you were once unkind befriends me now, And for that sorrow which I then did feel Needs must I under my transgression bow, Unless my nerves were brass or hammered steel. For if you were by my unkindness shaken As I by yours, y' have pass'd a hell of time, And I, a tyrant, have no leisure taken To weigh how once I suffered in your crime. O that our night of woe might have rememb'red My deepest sense, how hard true sorrow hits, And soon to you, as you to me then, tend'red The humble salve which wounded bosoms fits! But that your trespass now becomes a fee, Mine ransoms yours, and yours must ransom me.