Whoever hath her wish, thou hast thy ‘Will,’
And ‘Will’ to boot, and ‘Will’ in over-plus;
More than enough am I that vex’d thee still,
To thy sweet will making addition thus.
Wilt thou, whose will is large and spacious,
Not once vouchsafe to hide my will in thine?
Shall will in others seem right gracious,
And in my will no fair acceptance shine?
The sea, all water, yet receives rain still,
And in abundance addeth to his store;
So thou, being rich in ‘Will,’ add to thy ‘Will’
One will of mine, to make thy large will more.
Let no unkind ‘No’ fair beseechers kill;
Think all but one, and me in that one ‘Will.’
In plain English
You already have everything you want—and you have me too, 'Will' by name, and more of me besides. I'm just adding myself on top of what you've already got, extra and unwanted.
Your appetite is huge. Won't you at least tuck my desire away inside yours, just once? Other people's wants seem fine to you, but mine gets no welcome. The ocean is already water, yet it still takes in rain and grows richer—so why can't you, already full of 'Will,' just absorb one more will into yourself?
Don't crush people's hopes with a harsh refusal. Think of all suitors as just one person—think of me as that single 'Will' you're choosing.
