8. Sonnet

BATTER my heart, three person’d God; for, you

As yet but knocke, breathe, shine, and seeke to mend;

That I may rise, and stand, o’erthrow mee,’ and bend

Your force, to breake, blowe, burn and make me new.

I, like an usurpt towne, to’another due,

Labour to’admit you, but Oh, to no end,

Reason your viceroy in mee, mee should defend,

But is captiv’d, and proves weake or untrue.

Yet dearely’I love you,’ and would be loved faine,

But am betroth’d unto your enemie:

Divorce mee,’ untie, or breake that knot againe,

Take mee to you, imprison mee, for I

Except you’ enthrall mee, never shall be free,

Nor ever chast, except you ravish mee.