CXXXVI. If thy soul check thee that I come so near
        
          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, fulfil.
          'Will', will fulfil 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 lov'st me for my name is' Will.'