If too much of anything were a sin

If too much of anything were a sin,
Then I should be judged guilty of a crime;
But what does a sinner’s picture mean?
What sin for love committed over time?
Oh, my sin be love and my love be so,
That jealous Cupid shall condemn me still.
Too envious of my plea – struck me with his bow,
For my strange name to behold a love too real;
But gentle defendant stands, knowing,
My guilt is not guilty between each line;
Each part of mine, every inch, well sinning,
Yet innocent – my heart being not mine.
If this were a sin, then I forswear my sight;
If this were a sin, I do not want to be right.