Reading Help THE SONNETS
Another time mine eye is my heart's guest, `
` And in his thoughts of love doth share a part: `
` So, either by thy picture or my love, `
` Thy self away, art present still with me; `
` For thou not farther than my thoughts canst move, `
` And I am still with them, and they with thee; `
` Or, if they sleep, thy picture in my sight `
` Awakes my heart, to heart's and eye's delight. `
` `
` XLVIII `
` `
` How careful was I when I took my way, `
` Each trifle under truest bars to thrust, `
` That to my use it might unused stay `
` From hands of falsehood, in sure wards of trust! `
` But thou, to whom my jewels trifles are, `
` Most worthy comfort, now my greatest grief, `
` Thou best of dearest, and mine only care, `
` Art left the prey of every vulgar thief. `
` Thee have I not lock'd up in any chest, `
` Save where thou art not, though I feel thou art, `
` Within the gentle closure of my breast, `
` From whence at pleasure thou mayst come and part; `
` And even thence thou wilt be stol'n I fear, `
` For truth proves thievish for a prize so dear. `
` `
` XLIX `
` `
` Against that time, if ever that time come, `
` When I shall see thee frown on my defects, `
` When as thy love hath cast his utmost sum, `
` Call'd to that audit by advis'd respects; `
` Against that time when thou shalt strangely pass, `
` And scarcely greet me with that sun, thine eye, `
` When love, converted from the thing it was, `
` Shall reasons find of settled gravity; `
` Against that time do I ensconce me here, `
` Within the knowledge of mine own desert, `
` And this my hand, against my self uprear, `
` To guard the lawful reasons on thy part: `
` To leave poor me thou hast the strength of laws, `
` Since why to love I can allege no cause. `
` `
` L `
` `
` How heavy do I journey on the way, `
` When what I seek, my weary travel's end, `
` Doth teach that ease and that repose to say, `
` 'Thus far the miles are measured from thy friend!' `
` The beast that bears me, tired with my woe, `
` Plods dully on, to bear that weight in me, `
` As if by some instinct the wretch did know `
` His rider lov'd not speed, being made from thee: `
` The bloody spur cannot provoke him on, `
` That sometimes anger thrusts into his hide, `
` Which heavily he answers with a groan, `
` More sharp to me than spurring to his side; `
` For that same groan doth put this in my mind, `
` My grief lies onward, and my joy behind. `
` `
` LI `
` `
` Thus can my love excuse the slow offence `
` Of my dull bearer when from thee I speed: `
` From where thou art why should I haste me thence? `
` Till I return, of posting is no need. `
` O! what excuse will my poor beast then find, `
` When swift extremity can seem but slow? `
` Then should I spur, though mounted on the wind, `
` In winged speed n:motion shall I know, `
` Then can no horse with my desire keep pace; `
` Therefore desire, of perfect'st love being made, `
` Shall neigh--no dull flesh--in his fiery race; `
` But love, for love, thus shall excuse my jade,-- `
` 'Since from thee going, he went wilful-slow, `
` Towards thee I'll run, and give him leave to go.' `
` `
` LII `
` `
` So am I as the rich, whose blessed key, `
` Can bring him to his sweet up-locked treasure, `
` The which he will not every hour survey, `
` For blunting the fine point of seldom pleasure. `
` Therefore are feasts so solemn and so rare, `
` Since, seldom coming in that long year set, `
` Like stones of worth they thinly placed are, `
` Or captain jewels in the carcanet. `
` So is the time that keeps you as my chest, `
` Or as the wardrobe which the robe doth hide, `
` To make some special instant special-blest, `
` By new unfolding his imprison'd pride. `
` Blessed are you whose worthiness gives scope, `
` Being had, to triumph; being lacked, to hope. `
` `
` LIII `
` `
` What is your substance, whereof are you made, `
` That millions of strange shadows on you tend? `
` Since every one, hath every one, one shade, `
` And you but one, can every shadow lend. `
` Describe Adonis, and the counterfeit `
` Is poorly imitated after you; `
` On Helen's cheek all art of beauty set, `
` And you in Grecian tires are painted new: `
` Speak of the spring, and foison of the year, `
` The one doth shadow of your beauty show, `
` The other as your bounty doth appear; `
` And you in every blessed shape we know. `
` In all external grace you have some part, `
` But you like none, none you, for constant heart. `
` `
` LIV `
` `
` O! how much more doth beauty beauteous seem `
` By that sweet ornament which truth doth give. `
` The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem `
` For that sweet odour, which doth in it live. `
` The canker blooms have full as deep a dye `
` As the perfumed tincture of the roses. `
` Hang on such thorns, and play as wantonly `
` When summer's breath their masked buds discloses: `
` But, for their virtue only is their show, `
` They live unwoo'd, and unrespected fade; `
` Die to themselves. Sweet roses do not so; `
` Of their sweet deaths, are sweetest odours made: `
` And so of you, beauteous and lovely youth, `
` When that shall vade, by verse distills your truth. `
` `
` LV `
` `
` Not marble, nor the gilded monuments `
` Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme; `
` But you shall shine more bright in these contents `
` Than unswept stone, besmear'd with sluttish time. `
` When wasteful war shall statues overturn, `
` And broils root out the work of masonry, `
` Nor Mars his sword, nor war's quick fire shall burn `
` The living record of your memory. `
` 'Gainst death, and all-oblivious enmity `
` Shall you pace forth; your praise shall still find room `
` Even in the eyes of all posterity `
` That wear this world out to the ending doom. `
` So, till the judgment that yourself arise, `
` You live in this, and dwell in lovers' eyes. `
` `
` LVI `
` `
` Sweet love, renew thy force; be it not said `
` Thy edge should blunter be than appetite, `
` Which but to-day by feeding is allay'd, `
` To-morrow sharpened in his former might: `
` So, love, be thou, although to-day thou fill `
` Thy hungry eyes, even till they wink with fulness, `
` To-morrow see again, and do not kill `
` The spirit of love, with a perpetual dulness. `
` Let this sad interim like the ocean be `
` Which parts the shore, where two contracted new `
` Come daily to the banks, that when they see `
` Return of love, more blest may be the view; `
` Or call it winter, which being full of care, `
` Makes summer's welcome, thrice more wished, more rare. `
` `
` LVII `
` `
` Being your slave what should I do but tend, `
` Upon the hours, and times of your desire? `
` I have no precious time at all to spend; `
` Nor services to do, till you require. `
` Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour, `
` Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you, `
` Nor think the bitterness of absence sour, `
` When you have bid your servant once adieu; `
` Nor dare I question with my jealous thought `
` Where you may be, or your affairs suppose, `
` But, like a sad slave, stay and think of nought `
` Save, where you are, how happy you make those. `
` So true a fool is love, that in your will, `
` Though you do anything, he thinks no ill. `
` `
` LVIII `
` `
` That god forbid, that made me first your slave, `
` I should in thought control your times of pleasure, `
` Or at your hand the account of hours to crave, `
` Being your vassal, bound to stay your leisure! `
` O! let me suffer, being at your beck, `
` The imprison'd absence of your liberty; `
` And patience, tame to sufferance, bide each check, `
` Without accusing you of injury. `
` Be where you list, your charter is so strong `
` That you yourself may privilage your time `
` To what you will; to you it doth belong `
` Yourself to pardon of self-doing crime. `
` I am to wait, though waiting so be hell, `
` Not blame your pleasure be it ill or well. `
` `
` LIX `
` `
` If there be nothing new, but that which is `
` Hath been before, how are our brains beguil'd, `
` Which labouring for invention bear amiss `
`
` And in his thoughts of love doth share a part: `
` So, either by thy picture or my love, `
` Thy self away, art present still with me; `
` For thou not farther than my thoughts canst move, `
` And I am still with them, and they with thee; `
` Or, if they sleep, thy picture in my sight `
` Awakes my heart, to heart's and eye's delight. `
` `
` XLVIII `
` `
` How careful was I when I took my way, `
` Each trifle under truest bars to thrust, `
` That to my use it might unused stay `
` From hands of falsehood, in sure wards of trust! `
` But thou, to whom my jewels trifles are, `
` Most worthy comfort, now my greatest grief, `
` Thou best of dearest, and mine only care, `
` Art left the prey of every vulgar thief. `
` Thee have I not lock'd up in any chest, `
` Save where thou art not, though I feel thou art, `
` Within the gentle closure of my breast, `
` From whence at pleasure thou mayst come and part; `
` And even thence thou wilt be stol'n I fear, `
` For truth proves thievish for a prize so dear. `
` `
` XLIX `
` `
` Against that time, if ever that time come, `
` When I shall see thee frown on my defects, `
` When as thy love hath cast his utmost sum, `
` Call'd to that audit by advis'd respects; `
` Against that time when thou shalt strangely pass, `
` And scarcely greet me with that sun, thine eye, `
` When love, converted from the thing it was, `
` Shall reasons find of settled gravity; `
` Against that time do I ensconce me here, `
` Within the knowledge of mine own desert, `
` And this my hand, against my self uprear, `
` To guard the lawful reasons on thy part: `
` To leave poor me thou hast the strength of laws, `
` Since why to love I can allege no cause. `
` `
` L `
` `
` How heavy do I journey on the way, `
` When what I seek, my weary travel's end, `
` Doth teach that ease and that repose to say, `
` 'Thus far the miles are measured from thy friend!' `
` The beast that bears me, tired with my woe, `
` Plods dully on, to bear that weight in me, `
` As if by some instinct the wretch did know `
` His rider lov'd not speed, being made from thee: `
` The bloody spur cannot provoke him on, `
` That sometimes anger thrusts into his hide, `
` Which heavily he answers with a groan, `
` More sharp to me than spurring to his side; `
` For that same groan doth put this in my mind, `
` My grief lies onward, and my joy behind. `
` `
` LI `
` `
` Thus can my love excuse the slow offence `
` Of my dull bearer when from thee I speed: `
` From where thou art why should I haste me thence? `
` Till I return, of posting is no need. `
` O! what excuse will my poor beast then find, `
` When swift extremity can seem but slow? `
` Then should I spur, though mounted on the wind, `
` In winged speed n:motion shall I know, `
` Then can no horse with my desire keep pace; `
` Therefore desire, of perfect'st love being made, `
` Shall neigh--no dull flesh--in his fiery race; `
` But love, for love, thus shall excuse my jade,-- `
` 'Since from thee going, he went wilful-slow, `
` Towards thee I'll run, and give him leave to go.' `
` `
` LII `
` `
` So am I as the rich, whose blessed key, `
` Can bring him to his sweet up-locked treasure, `
` The which he will not every hour survey, `
` For blunting the fine point of seldom pleasure. `
` Therefore are feasts so solemn and so rare, `
` Since, seldom coming in that long year set, `
` Like stones of worth they thinly placed are, `
` Or captain jewels in the carcanet. `
` So is the time that keeps you as my chest, `
` Or as the wardrobe which the robe doth hide, `
` To make some special instant special-blest, `
` By new unfolding his imprison'd pride. `
` Blessed are you whose worthiness gives scope, `
` Being had, to triumph; being lacked, to hope. `
` `
` LIII `
` `
` What is your substance, whereof are you made, `
` That millions of strange shadows on you tend? `
` Since every one, hath every one, one shade, `
` And you but one, can every shadow lend. `
` Describe Adonis, and the counterfeit `
` Is poorly imitated after you; `
` On Helen's cheek all art of beauty set, `
` And you in Grecian tires are painted new: `
` Speak of the spring, and foison of the year, `
` The one doth shadow of your beauty show, `
` The other as your bounty doth appear; `
` And you in every blessed shape we know. `
` In all external grace you have some part, `
` But you like none, none you, for constant heart. `
` `
` LIV `
` `
` O! how much more doth beauty beauteous seem `
` By that sweet ornament which truth doth give. `
` The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem `
` For that sweet odour, which doth in it live. `
` The canker blooms have full as deep a dye `
` As the perfumed tincture of the roses. `
` Hang on such thorns, and play as wantonly `
` When summer's breath their masked buds discloses: `
` But, for their virtue only is their show, `
` They live unwoo'd, and unrespected fade; `
` Die to themselves. Sweet roses do not so; `
` Of their sweet deaths, are sweetest odours made: `
` And so of you, beauteous and lovely youth, `
` When that shall vade, by verse distills your truth. `
` `
` LV `
` `
` Not marble, nor the gilded monuments `
` Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme; `
` But you shall shine more bright in these contents `
` Than unswept stone, besmear'd with sluttish time. `
` When wasteful war shall statues overturn, `
` And broils root out the work of masonry, `
` Nor Mars his sword, nor war's quick fire shall burn `
` The living record of your memory. `
` 'Gainst death, and all-oblivious enmity `
` Shall you pace forth; your praise shall still find room `
` Even in the eyes of all posterity `
` That wear this world out to the ending doom. `
` So, till the judgment that yourself arise, `
` You live in this, and dwell in lovers' eyes. `
` `
` LVI `
` `
` Sweet love, renew thy force; be it not said `
` Thy edge should blunter be than appetite, `
` Which but to-day by feeding is allay'd, `
` To-morrow sharpened in his former might: `
` So, love, be thou, although to-day thou fill `
` Thy hungry eyes, even till they wink with fulness, `
` To-morrow see again, and do not kill `
` The spirit of love, with a perpetual dulness. `
` Let this sad interim like the ocean be `
` Which parts the shore, where two contracted new `
` Come daily to the banks, that when they see `
` Return of love, more blest may be the view; `
` Or call it winter, which being full of care, `
` Makes summer's welcome, thrice more wished, more rare. `
` `
` LVII `
` `
` Being your slave what should I do but tend, `
` Upon the hours, and times of your desire? `
` I have no precious time at all to spend; `
` Nor services to do, till you require. `
` Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour, `
` Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you, `
` Nor think the bitterness of absence sour, `
` When you have bid your servant once adieu; `
` Nor dare I question with my jealous thought `
` Where you may be, or your affairs suppose, `
` But, like a sad slave, stay and think of nought `
` Save, where you are, how happy you make those. `
` So true a fool is love, that in your will, `
` Though you do anything, he thinks no ill. `
` `
` LVIII `
` `
` That god forbid, that made me first your slave, `
` I should in thought control your times of pleasure, `
` Or at your hand the account of hours to crave, `
` Being your vassal, bound to stay your leisure! `
` O! let me suffer, being at your beck, `
` The imprison'd absence of your liberty; `
` And patience, tame to sufferance, bide each check, `
` Without accusing you of injury. `
` Be where you list, your charter is so strong `
` That you yourself may privilage your time `
` To what you will; to you it doth belong `
` Yourself to pardon of self-doing crime. `
` I am to wait, though waiting so be hell, `
` Not blame your pleasure be it ill or well. `
` `
` LIX `
` `
` If there be nothing new, but that which is `
` Hath been before, how are our brains beguil'd, `
` Which labouring for invention bear amiss `
`