Taking my pen, with words to cast my woe, 
Duly to count the sum of all my cares, 
I find my griefs innumerable grow, 
The reckonings rise to millions of despairs; 
And thus dividing of my fatal hours, 
The payments of my love I read and cross, 
Subtracting, set my sweets unto my sours, 
My joy's arrearage leads me to my loss; 
And thus mine eye's a debtor to thine eye, 
Which by extortion gaineth all their looks; 
My heart hath paid such grievous usury 
That all their wealth lies in thy beauty's books, 
And all is thine which hath been due to me, 
And I a bankrupt, quite undone by thee.