1593-1603 by Shakespeare 
Sonnet 51 

1	Thus can my love excuse the slow offence
2	Of my dull bearer when from thee I speed:
3	From where thou art why should I haste me thence?
4	Till I return, of posting is no need.
5	O what excuse will my poor beast then find
6	When swift extremity can seem but slow?
7	Then should I spur, though mounted on the wind#
8	In wingèd speed no motion shall I know.
9	Then can no horse with my desire keep pace#
10	Therefore desire, of perfect’st love being made,
11	Shall rein no dull flesh in his fiery race#
12	But love, for love, thus shall excuse my jade:
13	Since from thee going he went wilful-slow,
14	Towards thee I’ll run and give him leave to go.