Reading Help THE SONNETS
But my five wits nor my five senses can `
` Dissuade one foolish heart from serving thee, `
` Who leaves unsway'd the likeness of a man, `
` Thy proud heart's slave and vassal wretch to be: `
` Only my plague thus far I count my gain, `
` That she that makes me sin awards me pain. `
` `
` CXLII `
` `
` Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate, `
` Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving: `
` O! but with mine compare thou thine own state, `
` And thou shalt find it merits not reproving; `
` Or, if it do, not from those lips of thine, `
` That have profan'd their scarlet ornaments `
` And seal'd false bonds of love as oft as mine, `
` Robb'd others' beds' revenues of their rents. `
` Be it lawful I love thee, as thou lov'st those `
` Whom thine eyes woo as mine importune thee: `
` Root pity in thy heart, that, when it grows, `
` Thy pity may deserve to pitied be. `
` If thou dost seek to have what thou dost hide, `
` By self-example mayst thou be denied! `
` `
` CXLIII `
` `
` Lo, as a careful housewife runs to catch `
` One of her feather'd creatures broke away, `
` Sets down her babe, and makes all swift dispatch `
` In pursuit of the thing she would have stay; `
` Whilst her neglected child holds her in chase, `
` Cries to catch her whose busy care is bent `
` To follow that which flies before her face, `
` Not prizing her poor infant's discontent; `
` So runn'st thou after that which flies from thee, `
` Whilst I thy babe chase thee afar behind; `
` But if thou catch thy hope, turn back to me, `
` And play the mother's part, kiss me, be kind; `
` So will I pray that thou mayst have thy 'Will,' `
` If thou turn back and my loud crying still. `
` `
` CXLIV `
` `
` Two loves I have of comfort and despair, `
` Which like two spirits do suggest me still: `
` The better angel is a man right fair, `
` The worser spirit a woman colour'd ill. `
` To win me soon to hell, my female evil, `
` Tempteth my better angel from my side, `
` And would corrupt my saint to be a devil, `
` Wooing his purity with her foul pride. `
` And whether that my angel be turn'd fiend, `
` Suspect I may, yet not directly tell; `
` But being both from me, both to each friend, `
` I guess one angel in another's hell: `
` Yet this shall I ne'er know, but live in doubt, `
` Till my bad angel fire my good one out. `
` `
` CXLV `
` `
` Those lips that Love's own hand did make, `
` Breathed forth the sound that said 'I hate', `
` To me that languish'd for her sake: `
` But when she saw my woeful state, `
` Straight in her heart did mercy come, `
` Chiding that tongue that ever sweet `
` Was us'd in giving gentle doom; `
` And taught it thus anew to greet; `
` 'I hate' she alter'd with an end, `
` That followed it as gentle day, `
` Doth follow night, who like a fiend `
` From heaven to hell is flown away. `
` 'I hate', from hate away she threw, `
` And sav'd my life, saying 'not you'. `
` `
` CXLVI `
` `
` Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth, `
` My sinful earth these rebel powers array, `
` Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth, `
` Painting thy outward walls so costly gay? `
` Why so large cost, having so short a lease, `
` Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend? `
` Shall worms, inheritors of this excess, `
` Eat up thy charge? Is this thy body's end? `
` Then soul, live thou upon thy servant's loss, `
` And let that pine to aggravate thy store; `
` Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross; `
` Within be fed, without be rich no more: `
` So shall thou feed on Death, that feeds on men, `
` And Death once dead, there's no more dying then. `
` `
` CXLVII `
` `
` My love is as a fever longing still, `
` For that which longer nurseth the disease; `
` Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill, `
` The uncertain sickly appetite to please. `
` My reason, the physician to my love, `
` Angry that his prescriptions are not kept, `
` Hath left me, and I desperate now approve `
` Desire is death, which physic did except. `
` Past cure I am, now Reason is past care, `
` And frantic-mad with evermore unrest; `
` My thoughts and my discourse as madmen's are, `
` At random from the truth vainly express'd; `
` For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright, `
` Who art as black as hell, as dark as night. `
` `
` CXLVIII `
` `
` O me! what eyes hath Love put in my head, `
` Which have no correspondence with true sight; `
` Or, if they have, where is my judgment fled, `
` That censures falsely what they see aright? `
` If that be fair whereon my false eyes dote, `
` What means the world to say it is not so? `
` If it be not, then love doth well denote `
` Love's eye is not so true as all men's: no, `
` How can it? O! how can Love's eye be true, `
` That is so vexed with watching and with tears? `
` No marvel then, though I mistake my view; `
` The sun itself sees not, till heaven clears. `
` O cunning Love! with tears thou keep'st me blind, `
` Lest eyes well-seeing thy foul faults should find. `
` `
` CXLIX `
` `
` Canst thou, O cruel! say I love thee not, `
` When I against myself with thee partake? `
` Do I not think on thee, when I forgot `
` Am of my self, all tyrant, for thy sake? `
` Who hateth thee that I do call my friend, `
` On whom frown'st thou that I do fawn upon, `
` Nay, if thou lour'st on me, do I not spend `
` Revenge upon myself with present moan? `
` What merit do I in my self respect, `
` That is so proud thy service to despise, `
` When all my best doth worship thy defect, `
` Commanded by the motion of thine eyes? `
` But, love, hate on, for now I know thy mind,; `
` Those that can see thou lov'st, and I am blind. `
` `
` CL `
` `
` O! from what power hast thou this powerful might, `
` With insufficiency my heart to sway? `
` To make me give the lie to my true sight, `
` And swear that brightness doth not grace the day? `
` Whence hast thou this becoming of things ill, `
` That in the very refuse of thy deeds `
` There is such strength and warrantise of skill, `
` That, in my mind, thy worst all best exceeds? `
` Who taught thee how to make me love thee more, `
` The more I hear and see just cause of hate? `
` O! though I love what others do abhor, `
` With others thou shouldst not abhor my state: `
` If thy unworthiness rais'd love in me, `
` More worthy I to be belov'd of thee. `
` `
` CLI `
` `
` Love is too young to know what conscience is, `
` Yet who knows not conscience is born of love? `
` Then, gentle cheater, urge not my amiss, `
` Lest guilty of my faults thy sweet self prove: `
` For, thou betraying me, I do betray `
` My nobler part to my gross body's treason; `
` My soul doth tell my body that he may `
` Triumph in love; flesh stays no farther reason, `
` But rising at thy name doth point out thee, `
` As his triumphant prize. Proud of this pride, `
` He is contented thy poor drudge to be, `
` To stand in thy affairs, fall by thy side. `
` No want of conscience hold it that I call `
` Her 'love,' for whose dear love I rise and fall. `
` `
` CLII `
` `
` In loving thee thou know'st I am forsworn, `
` But thou art twice forsworn, to me love swearing; `
` In act thy bed-vow broke, and new faith torn, `
` In vowing new hate after new love bearing: `
` But why of two oaths' breach do I accuse thee, `
` When I break twenty? I am perjur'd most; `
` For all my vows are oaths but to misuse thee, `
` And all my honest faith in thee is lost: `
` For I have sworn deep oaths of thy deep kindness, `
` Oaths of thy love, thy truth, thy constancy; `
` And, to enlighten thee, gave eyes to blindness, `
` Or made them swear against the thing they see; `
` For I have sworn thee fair; more perjur'd I, `
` To swear against the truth so foul a lie.! `
` `
` CLIII `
` `
` Cupid laid by his brand and fell asleep: `
` A maid of Dian's this advantage found, `
` And his love-kindling fire did quickly steep `
` In a cold valley-fountain of that ground; `
` `
`
` Dissuade one foolish heart from serving thee, `
` Who leaves unsway'd the likeness of a man, `
` Thy proud heart's slave and vassal wretch to be: `
` Only my plague thus far I count my gain, `
` That she that makes me sin awards me pain. `
` `
` CXLII `
` `
` Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate, `
` Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving: `
` O! but with mine compare thou thine own state, `
` And thou shalt find it merits not reproving; `
` Or, if it do, not from those lips of thine, `
` That have profan'd their scarlet ornaments `
` And seal'd false bonds of love as oft as mine, `
` Robb'd others' beds' revenues of their rents. `
` Be it lawful I love thee, as thou lov'st those `
` Whom thine eyes woo as mine importune thee: `
` Root pity in thy heart, that, when it grows, `
` Thy pity may deserve to pitied be. `
` If thou dost seek to have what thou dost hide, `
` By self-example mayst thou be denied! `
` `
` CXLIII `
` `
` Lo, as a careful housewife runs to catch `
` One of her feather'd creatures broke away, `
` Sets down her babe, and makes all swift dispatch `
` In pursuit of the thing she would have stay; `
` Whilst her neglected child holds her in chase, `
` Cries to catch her whose busy care is bent `
` To follow that which flies before her face, `
` Not prizing her poor infant's discontent; `
` So runn'st thou after that which flies from thee, `
` Whilst I thy babe chase thee afar behind; `
` But if thou catch thy hope, turn back to me, `
` And play the mother's part, kiss me, be kind; `
` So will I pray that thou mayst have thy 'Will,' `
` If thou turn back and my loud crying still. `
` `
` CXLIV `
` `
` Two loves I have of comfort and despair, `
` Which like two spirits do suggest me still: `
` The better angel is a man right fair, `
` The worser spirit a woman colour'd ill. `
` To win me soon to hell, my female evil, `
` Tempteth my better angel from my side, `
` And would corrupt my saint to be a devil, `
` Wooing his purity with her foul pride. `
` And whether that my angel be turn'd fiend, `
` Suspect I may, yet not directly tell; `
` But being both from me, both to each friend, `
` I guess one angel in another's hell: `
` Yet this shall I ne'er know, but live in doubt, `
` Till my bad angel fire my good one out. `
` `
` CXLV `
` `
` Those lips that Love's own hand did make, `
` Breathed forth the sound that said 'I hate', `
` To me that languish'd for her sake: `
` But when she saw my woeful state, `
` Straight in her heart did mercy come, `
` Chiding that tongue that ever sweet `
` Was us'd in giving gentle doom; `
` And taught it thus anew to greet; `
` 'I hate' she alter'd with an end, `
` That followed it as gentle day, `
` Doth follow night, who like a fiend `
` From heaven to hell is flown away. `
` 'I hate', from hate away she threw, `
` And sav'd my life, saying 'not you'. `
` `
` CXLVI `
` `
` Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth, `
` My sinful earth these rebel powers array, `
` Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth, `
` Painting thy outward walls so costly gay? `
` Why so large cost, having so short a lease, `
` Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend? `
` Shall worms, inheritors of this excess, `
` Eat up thy charge? Is this thy body's end? `
` Then soul, live thou upon thy servant's loss, `
` And let that pine to aggravate thy store; `
` Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross; `
` Within be fed, without be rich no more: `
` So shall thou feed on Death, that feeds on men, `
` And Death once dead, there's no more dying then. `
` `
` CXLVII `
` `
` My love is as a fever longing still, `
` For that which longer nurseth the disease; `
` Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill, `
` The uncertain sickly appetite to please. `
` My reason, the physician to my love, `
` Angry that his prescriptions are not kept, `
` Hath left me, and I desperate now approve `
` Desire is death, which physic did except. `
` Past cure I am, now Reason is past care, `
` And frantic-mad with evermore unrest; `
` My thoughts and my discourse as madmen's are, `
` At random from the truth vainly express'd; `
` For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright, `
` Who art as black as hell, as dark as night. `
` `
` CXLVIII `
` `
` O me! what eyes hath Love put in my head, `
` Which have no correspondence with true sight; `
` Or, if they have, where is my judgment fled, `
` That censures falsely what they see aright? `
` If that be fair whereon my false eyes dote, `
` What means the world to say it is not so? `
` If it be not, then love doth well denote `
` Love's eye is not so true as all men's: no, `
` How can it? O! how can Love's eye be true, `
` That is so vexed with watching and with tears? `
` No marvel then, though I mistake my view; `
` The sun itself sees not, till heaven clears. `
` O cunning Love! with tears thou keep'st me blind, `
` Lest eyes well-seeing thy foul faults should find. `
` `
` CXLIX `
` `
` Canst thou, O cruel! say I love thee not, `
` When I against myself with thee partake? `
` Do I not think on thee, when I forgot `
` Am of my self, all tyrant, for thy sake? `
` Who hateth thee that I do call my friend, `
` On whom frown'st thou that I do fawn upon, `
` Nay, if thou lour'st on me, do I not spend `
` Revenge upon myself with present moan? `
` What merit do I in my self respect, `
` That is so proud thy service to despise, `
` When all my best doth worship thy defect, `
` Commanded by the motion of thine eyes? `
` But, love, hate on, for now I know thy mind,; `
` Those that can see thou lov'st, and I am blind. `
` `
` CL `
` `
` O! from what power hast thou this powerful might, `
` With insufficiency my heart to sway? `
` To make me give the lie to my true sight, `
` And swear that brightness doth not grace the day? `
` Whence hast thou this becoming of things ill, `
` That in the very refuse of thy deeds `
` There is such strength and warrantise of skill, `
` That, in my mind, thy worst all best exceeds? `
` Who taught thee how to make me love thee more, `
` The more I hear and see just cause of hate? `
` O! though I love what others do abhor, `
` With others thou shouldst not abhor my state: `
` If thy unworthiness rais'd love in me, `
` More worthy I to be belov'd of thee. `
` `
` CLI `
` `
` Love is too young to know what conscience is, `
` Yet who knows not conscience is born of love? `
` Then, gentle cheater, urge not my amiss, `
` Lest guilty of my faults thy sweet self prove: `
` For, thou betraying me, I do betray `
` My nobler part to my gross body's treason; `
` My soul doth tell my body that he may `
` Triumph in love; flesh stays no farther reason, `
` But rising at thy name doth point out thee, `
` As his triumphant prize. Proud of this pride, `
` He is contented thy poor drudge to be, `
` To stand in thy affairs, fall by thy side. `
` No want of conscience hold it that I call `
` Her 'love,' for whose dear love I rise and fall. `
` `
` CLII `
` `
` In loving thee thou know'st I am forsworn, `
` But thou art twice forsworn, to me love swearing; `
` In act thy bed-vow broke, and new faith torn, `
` In vowing new hate after new love bearing: `
` But why of two oaths' breach do I accuse thee, `
` When I break twenty? I am perjur'd most; `
` For all my vows are oaths but to misuse thee, `
` And all my honest faith in thee is lost: `
` For I have sworn deep oaths of thy deep kindness, `
` Oaths of thy love, thy truth, thy constancy; `
` And, to enlighten thee, gave eyes to blindness, `
` Or made them swear against the thing they see; `
` For I have sworn thee fair; more perjur'd I, `
` To swear against the truth so foul a lie.! `
` `
` CLIII `
` `
` Cupid laid by his brand and fell asleep: `
` A maid of Dian's this advantage found, `
` And his love-kindling fire did quickly steep `
` In a cold valley-fountain of that ground; `
` `
`