Sonnet 138

1 When my love swears that she is made of truth,
2 I do believe, her though I know she lies,
3 That she might think me some untutored youth,
4 Unlearned in the world’s false subtleties.
5 Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,
6 Although she knows my days are past the best,
7 Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue;
8 On both sides thus is simple truth suppressed.
9 But wherefore says she not she is unjust?
10 And wherefore say not I that I am old?
11 O love’s best habit is in seeming trust,
12 And age in love loves not to have years told.
13 Therefore I lie with her, and she with me,
14 And in our faults by lies we flattered be.