Shakespeare Sonnet 51

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Thus can my love excuse the slow offence

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Of my dull bearer when from thee I speed:

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From where thou art why should I haste me thence?

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Till I return, of posting is no need.

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O, what excuse will my poor beast then find,

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When swift extremity can seem but slow?

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Then should I spur, though mounted on the wind;

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In winged speed no motion shall I know:

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Then can no horse with my desire keep pace;

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Therefore desire of perfect'st love being made,

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Shall neigh--no dull flesh--in his fiery race;

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But love, for love, thus shall excuse my jade;

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Since from thee going he went wilful-slow,

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Towards thee I'll run, and give him leave to go.