Shakespeare's Sonnet 151

Love is too young to know what conscience is,Yet who knows not conscience is born of love?Then, gentle cheater, urge not my amiss,Lest guilty of my faults thy sweet self prove:For, thou betraying me, I do betrayMy nobler part to my gross body’s treason;My soul doth tell my body that he mayTriumph in love; flesh stays no farther reason,But rising at thy name doth point out thee,As his triumphant prize. Proud of this pride,He is contented thy poor drudge to be,To stand in thy affairs, fall by thy side.No want of conscience hold it that I callHer ‘love,’ for whose dear love I rise and fall.

Love is too young to know what conscience is, yet who does not know that conscience is born of love? Then, sweet deceiver, do not press charges against my wrongdoing, or your sweet self may prove guilty of my faults. For when you betray me, I betray my nobler self to my crude body's treachery. My soul tells my body that it may triumph in love. My flesh waits for no further argument, but rises at your name and points to you as its glorious prize. Proud of its erection, it is content to be your lowly servant, to stand ready for your sexual needs and fall beside you afterward. Do not think I lack a conscience when I call her ‘love,’ since it is for her precious love that I rise and fall.