Sonnet 72. O lest the world should task you to recite

O lest the world should task you to recite

What merit lived in me that you should love

After my death (dear love) forget me quite

For you in me can nothing worthy prove.

Unless you would devise some virtuous lie

To do more for me than mine own desert

And hang more praise upon deceased I

Than niggard truth would willingly impart: