Thus can my love excuse the slow offence

Of my dull bearer when from thee I speed:

From where thou art why should I haste me thence?

Till I return, of posting is no need.

O! what excuse will my poor beast then find,

When swift extremity can seem but slow?

Then should I spur, though mounted on the wind,

In winged speed no motion shall I know,

Then can no horse with my desire keep pace.

Therefore desire, (of perfect’st love being made)

Shall neigh, no dull flesh, in his fiery race;

But love, for love, thus shall excuse my jade-

Since from thee going, he went wilful-slow,

Towards thee I’ll run, and give him leave to go.