A virtuoso play on 'will' (desire, sexual appetite, and the poet's own name): the Dark Lady has her desires satisfied; the poet begs for just his 'Will' to be acknowledged among her many suitors.
Compressed triple pun on sexual appetite, the poet's identity (Will Shakespeare), and multiple lovers (wills plural). The repetition is maddening and obsessive.
Among a number one is reckoned nothing. Mathematical paradox: 1 is simultaneously a number and insignificant.
Shakespeare's name (Will/William) becomes a noun, verb, and pronoun simultaneously: 'will' (sexual desire), 'Will' (the poet himself), 'wills' (plural suitors). The obsessive repetition of the word enacts the obsessive nature of desire. The poem is almost unreadable for its wordplay density, forcing the reader to parse meaning through homophone layers. This mirrors how desire scrambles meaning—the poet can't think clearly because the pun corrupts his language.
Lines 9-10 employ the sea as metaphor: 'The sea all water, yet receives rain still, / And in abundance addeth to his store.' The Dark Lady is an ocean of desire; the poet is merely rain, one drop among many. Being one among an infinite number means being 'none' (line 8). The poem accepts this annihilation—asks only to be 'nothing' to her, if 'nothing' is her definition. This is the ultimate diminishment: the poet offers his non-existence as a gift.
Like someone you want begging just to be included in your life—not loved best, just noticed. The poem captures the desperation of the replaceable lover: 'I don't need to be the one, just don't forget I exist.' It's the diminishment of self-worth through desire.