Reading Help THE SONNETS
And beauty making beautiful old rime, `
` In praise of ladies dead and lovely knights, `
` Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty's best, `
` Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow, `
` I see their antique pen would have express'd `
` Even such a beauty as you master now. `
` So all their praises are but prophecies `
` Of this our time, all you prefiguring; `
` And for they looked but with divining eyes, `
` They had not skill enough your worth to sing: `
` For we, which now behold these present days, `
` Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise. `
` `
` CVII `
` `
` Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul `
` Of the wide world dreaming on things to come, `
` Can yet the lease of my true love control, `
` Supposed as forfeit to a confin'd doom. `
` The mortal moon hath her eclipse endur'd, `
` And the sad augurs mock their own presage; `
` Incertainties now crown themselves assur'd, `
` And peace proclaims olives of endless age. `
` Now with the drops of this most balmy time, `
` My love looks fresh, and Death to me subscribes, `
` Since, spite of him, I'll live in this poor rime, `
` While he insults o'er dull and speechless tribes: `
` And thou in this shalt find thy monument, `
` When tyrants' crests and tombs of brass are spent. `
` `
` CVIII `
` `
` What's in the brain, that ink may character, `
` Which hath not figur'd to thee my true spirit? `
` What's new to speak, what now to register, `
` That may express my love, or thy dear merit? `
` Nothing, sweet boy; but yet, like prayers divine, `
` I must each day say o'er the very same; `
` Counting no old thing old, thou mine, I thine, `
` Even as when first I hallow'd thy fair name. `
` So that eternal love in love's fresh case, `
` Weighs not the dust and injury of age, `
` Nor gives to necessary wrinkles place, `
` But makes antiquity for aye his page; `
` Finding the first conceit of love there bred, `
` Where time and outward form would show it dead. `
` `
` CIX `
` `
` O! never say that I was false of heart, `
` Though absence seem'd my flame to qualify, `
` As easy might I from my self depart `
` As from my soul which in thy breast doth lie: `
` That is my home of love: if I have rang'd, `
` Like him that travels, I return again; `
` Just to the time, not with the time exchang'd, `
` So that myself bring water for my stain. `
` Never believe though in my nature reign'd, `
` All frailties that besiege all kinds of blood, `
` That it could so preposterously be stain'd, `
` To leave for nothing all thy sum of good; `
` For nothing this wide universe I call, `
` Save thou, my rose, in it thou art my all. `
` `
` CX `
` `
` Alas! 'tis true, I have gone here and there, `
` And made my self a motley to the view, `
` Gor'd mine own thoughts, sold cheap what is most dear, `
` Made old offences of affections new; `
` Most true it is, that I have look'd on truth `
` Askance and strangely; but, by all above, `
` These blenches gave my heart another youth, `
` And worse essays prov'd thee my best of love. `
` Now all is done, save what shall have no end: `
` Mine appetite I never more will grind `
` On newer proof, to try an older friend, `
` A god in love, to whom I am confin'd. `
` Then give me welcome, next my heaven the best, `
` Even to thy pure and most most loving breast. `
` `
` CXI `
` `
` O! for my sake do you with Fortune chide, `
` The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds, `
` That did not better for my life provide `
` Than public means which public manners breeds. `
` Thence comes it that my name receives a brand, `
` And almost thence my nature is subdu'd `
` To what it works in, like the dyer's hand: `
` Pity me, then, and wish I were renew'd; `
` Whilst, like a willing patient, I will drink, `
` Potions of eisel 'gainst my strong infection; `
` No bitterness that I will bitter think, `
` Nor double penance, to correct correction. `
` Pity me then, dear friend, and I assure ye, `
` Even that your pity is enough to cure me. `
` `
` CXII `
` `
` Your love and pity doth the impression fill, `
` Which vulgar scandal stamp'd upon my brow; `
` For what care I who calls me well or ill, `
` So you o'er-green my bad, my good allow? `
` You are my all-the-world, and I must strive `
` To know my shames and praises from your tongue; `
` None else to me, nor I to none alive, `
` That my steel'd sense or changes right or wrong. `
` In so profound abysm I throw all care `
` Of others' voices, that my adder's sense `
` To critic and to flatterer stopped are. `
` Mark how with my neglect I do dispense: `
` You are so strongly in my purpose bred, `
` That all the world besides methinks are dead. `
` `
` CXIII `
` `
` Since I left you, mine eye is in my mind; `
` And that which governs me to go about `
` Doth part his function and is partly blind, `
` Seems seeing, but effectually is out; `
` For it no form delivers to the heart `
` Of bird, of flower, or shape which it doth latch: `
` Of his quick objects hath the mind no part, `
` Nor his own vision holds what it doth catch; `
` For if it see the rud'st or gentlest sight, `
` The most sweet favour or deformed'st creature, `
` The mountain or the sea, the day or night: `
` The crow, or dove, it shapes them to your feature. `
` Incapable of more, replete with you, `
` My most true mind thus maketh mine untrue. `
` `
` CXIV `
` `
` Or whether doth my mind, being crown'd with you, `
` Drink up the monarch's plague, this flattery? `
` Or whether shall I say, mine eye saith true, `
` And that your love taught it this alchemy, `
` To make of monsters and things indigest `
` Such cherubins as your sweet self resemble, `
` Creating every bad a perfect best, `
` As fast as objects to his beams assemble? `
` O! 'tis the first, 'tis flattery in my seeing, `
` And my great mind most kingly drinks it up: `
` Mine eye well knows what with his gust is 'greeing, `
` And to his palate doth prepare the cup: `
` If it be poison'd, 'tis the lesser sin `
` That mine eye loves it and doth first begin. `
` `
` CXV `
` `
` Those lines that I before have writ do lie, `
` Even those that said I could not love you dearer: `
` Yet then my judgment knew no reason why `
` My most full flame should afterwards burn clearer. `
` But reckoning Time, whose million'd accidents `
` Creep in 'twixt vows, and change decrees of kings, `
` Tan sacred beauty, blunt the sharp'st intents, `
` Divert strong minds to the course of altering things; `
` Alas! why fearing of Time's tyranny, `
` Might I not then say, 'Now I love you best,' `
` When I was certain o'er incertainty, `
` Crowning the present, doubting of the rest? `
` Love is a babe, then might I not say so, `
` To give full growth to that which still doth grow? `
` `
` CXVI `
` `
` Let me not to the marriage of true minds `
` Admit impediments. Love is not love `
` Which alters when it alteration finds, `
` Or bends with the remover to remove: `
` O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark, `
` That looks on tempests and is never shaken; `
` It is the star to every wandering bark, `
` Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. `
` Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks `
` Within his bending sickle's compass come; `
` Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, `
` But bears it out even to the edge of doom. `
` If this be error and upon me prov'd, `
` I never writ, nor no man ever lov'd. `
` `
` CXVII `
` `
` Accuse me thus: that I have scanted all, `
` Wherein I should your great deserts repay, `
` Forgot upon your dearest love to call, `
` Whereto all bonds do tie me day by day; `
` That I have frequent been with unknown minds, `
` And given to time your own dear-purchas'd right; `
` That I have hoisted sail to all the winds `
` Which should transport me farthest from your sight. `
` Book both my wilfulness and errors down, `
` And on just proof surmise, accumulate; `
` Bring me within the level of your frown, `
` But shoot not at me in your waken'd hate; `
` Since my appeal says I did strive to prove `
` The constancy and virtue of your love. `
` `
` CXVIII `
`
` In praise of ladies dead and lovely knights, `
` Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty's best, `
` Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow, `
` I see their antique pen would have express'd `
` Even such a beauty as you master now. `
` So all their praises are but prophecies `
` Of this our time, all you prefiguring; `
` And for they looked but with divining eyes, `
` They had not skill enough your worth to sing: `
` For we, which now behold these present days, `
` Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise. `
` `
` CVII `
` `
` Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul `
` Of the wide world dreaming on things to come, `
` Can yet the lease of my true love control, `
` Supposed as forfeit to a confin'd doom. `
` The mortal moon hath her eclipse endur'd, `
` And the sad augurs mock their own presage; `
` Incertainties now crown themselves assur'd, `
` And peace proclaims olives of endless age. `
` Now with the drops of this most balmy time, `
` My love looks fresh, and Death to me subscribes, `
` Since, spite of him, I'll live in this poor rime, `
` While he insults o'er dull and speechless tribes: `
` And thou in this shalt find thy monument, `
` When tyrants' crests and tombs of brass are spent. `
` `
` CVIII `
` `
` What's in the brain, that ink may character, `
` Which hath not figur'd to thee my true spirit? `
` What's new to speak, what now to register, `
` That may express my love, or thy dear merit? `
` Nothing, sweet boy; but yet, like prayers divine, `
` I must each day say o'er the very same; `
` Counting no old thing old, thou mine, I thine, `
` Even as when first I hallow'd thy fair name. `
` So that eternal love in love's fresh case, `
` Weighs not the dust and injury of age, `
` Nor gives to necessary wrinkles place, `
` But makes antiquity for aye his page; `
` Finding the first conceit of love there bred, `
` Where time and outward form would show it dead. `
` `
` CIX `
` `
` O! never say that I was false of heart, `
` Though absence seem'd my flame to qualify, `
` As easy might I from my self depart `
` As from my soul which in thy breast doth lie: `
` That is my home of love: if I have rang'd, `
` Like him that travels, I return again; `
` Just to the time, not with the time exchang'd, `
` So that myself bring water for my stain. `
` Never believe though in my nature reign'd, `
` All frailties that besiege all kinds of blood, `
` That it could so preposterously be stain'd, `
` To leave for nothing all thy sum of good; `
` For nothing this wide universe I call, `
` Save thou, my rose, in it thou art my all. `
` `
` CX `
` `
` Alas! 'tis true, I have gone here and there, `
` And made my self a motley to the view, `
` Gor'd mine own thoughts, sold cheap what is most dear, `
` Made old offences of affections new; `
` Most true it is, that I have look'd on truth `
` Askance and strangely; but, by all above, `
` These blenches gave my heart another youth, `
` And worse essays prov'd thee my best of love. `
` Now all is done, save what shall have no end: `
` Mine appetite I never more will grind `
` On newer proof, to try an older friend, `
` A god in love, to whom I am confin'd. `
` Then give me welcome, next my heaven the best, `
` Even to thy pure and most most loving breast. `
` `
` CXI `
` `
` O! for my sake do you with Fortune chide, `
` The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds, `
` That did not better for my life provide `
` Than public means which public manners breeds. `
` Thence comes it that my name receives a brand, `
` And almost thence my nature is subdu'd `
` To what it works in, like the dyer's hand: `
` Pity me, then, and wish I were renew'd; `
` Whilst, like a willing patient, I will drink, `
` Potions of eisel 'gainst my strong infection; `
` No bitterness that I will bitter think, `
` Nor double penance, to correct correction. `
` Pity me then, dear friend, and I assure ye, `
` Even that your pity is enough to cure me. `
` `
` CXII `
` `
` Your love and pity doth the impression fill, `
` Which vulgar scandal stamp'd upon my brow; `
` For what care I who calls me well or ill, `
` So you o'er-green my bad, my good allow? `
` You are my all-the-world, and I must strive `
` To know my shames and praises from your tongue; `
` None else to me, nor I to none alive, `
` That my steel'd sense or changes right or wrong. `
` In so profound abysm I throw all care `
` Of others' voices, that my adder's sense `
` To critic and to flatterer stopped are. `
` Mark how with my neglect I do dispense: `
` You are so strongly in my purpose bred, `
` That all the world besides methinks are dead. `
` `
` CXIII `
` `
` Since I left you, mine eye is in my mind; `
` And that which governs me to go about `
` Doth part his function and is partly blind, `
` Seems seeing, but effectually is out; `
` For it no form delivers to the heart `
` Of bird, of flower, or shape which it doth latch: `
` Of his quick objects hath the mind no part, `
` Nor his own vision holds what it doth catch; `
` For if it see the rud'st or gentlest sight, `
` The most sweet favour or deformed'st creature, `
` The mountain or the sea, the day or night: `
` The crow, or dove, it shapes them to your feature. `
` Incapable of more, replete with you, `
` My most true mind thus maketh mine untrue. `
` `
` CXIV `
` `
` Or whether doth my mind, being crown'd with you, `
` Drink up the monarch's plague, this flattery? `
` Or whether shall I say, mine eye saith true, `
` And that your love taught it this alchemy, `
` To make of monsters and things indigest `
` Such cherubins as your sweet self resemble, `
` Creating every bad a perfect best, `
` As fast as objects to his beams assemble? `
` O! 'tis the first, 'tis flattery in my seeing, `
` And my great mind most kingly drinks it up: `
` Mine eye well knows what with his gust is 'greeing, `
` And to his palate doth prepare the cup: `
` If it be poison'd, 'tis the lesser sin `
` That mine eye loves it and doth first begin. `
` `
` CXV `
` `
` Those lines that I before have writ do lie, `
` Even those that said I could not love you dearer: `
` Yet then my judgment knew no reason why `
` My most full flame should afterwards burn clearer. `
` But reckoning Time, whose million'd accidents `
` Creep in 'twixt vows, and change decrees of kings, `
` Tan sacred beauty, blunt the sharp'st intents, `
` Divert strong minds to the course of altering things; `
` Alas! why fearing of Time's tyranny, `
` Might I not then say, 'Now I love you best,' `
` When I was certain o'er incertainty, `
` Crowning the present, doubting of the rest? `
` Love is a babe, then might I not say so, `
` To give full growth to that which still doth grow? `
` `
` CXVI `
` `
` Let me not to the marriage of true minds `
` Admit impediments. Love is not love `
` Which alters when it alteration finds, `
` Or bends with the remover to remove: `
` O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark, `
` That looks on tempests and is never shaken; `
` It is the star to every wandering bark, `
` Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. `
` Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks `
` Within his bending sickle's compass come; `
` Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, `
` But bears it out even to the edge of doom. `
` If this be error and upon me prov'd, `
` I never writ, nor no man ever lov'd. `
` `
` CXVII `
` `
` Accuse me thus: that I have scanted all, `
` Wherein I should your great deserts repay, `
` Forgot upon your dearest love to call, `
` Whereto all bonds do tie me day by day; `
` That I have frequent been with unknown minds, `
` And given to time your own dear-purchas'd right; `
` That I have hoisted sail to all the winds `
` Which should transport me farthest from your sight. `
` Book both my wilfulness and errors down, `
` And on just proof surmise, accumulate; `
` Bring me within the level of your frown, `
` But shoot not at me in your waken'd hate; `
` Since my appeal says I did strive to prove `
` The constancy and virtue of your love. `
` `
` CXVIII `
`