Sonnet 120

That you were once unkind befriends me now,

And for that sorrow which I then did feel

Needs must I under my transgression bow,

Unless my nerves were brass or hammer’d steel.

For if you were by my unkindness shaken

As I by yours, y’ have pass’d a hell of time,

And I, a tyrant, have no leisure taken

To weigh how once I suffered in your crime.

O, that our night of woe might have rememb’red

My deepest sense how hard true sorrow hits,

And soon to you, as you to me, then tend’red

The humble salve, which wounded bosoms fits.

But that your trespass now becomes a fee,

Mine ransoms yours, and yours must ransom me.

That you hurt me helps me now,

And from that sorrow I experienced then

I learned regret for my own broken vow—

Softened to my own sin.

For if my wounds upon you were as traumatic

As yours upon me have been,

And as my ill intents have been so dramatic

As to send my own pain into oblivion,

The dark nights of our souls might have made us

Remember how heavy sorrow hits,

So I to you, and you to me, might cross

Now always to attend to each other’s cuts.

If your guilt bound you to me,

Mine towards you now sets us both free.