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Сонеты Шекспира|From limits far remote where thou dost stay. | |No matter then although my foot did stand | |Upon the farthest earth removed from thee; | |For nimble thought can jump both sea and land | |As soon as think the place where he would be. | |But ah! thought kills me that I am not thought, | |To leap large lengths of miles when thou art | |gone, | |But that so much of earth and water wrought | |I must attend time's leisure with my moan, | | Receiving nought by elements so slow | | But heavy tears, badges of either's woe. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 45 |XLV. | |The other two, slight air and purging fire, | |Are both with thee, wherever I abide; | |The first my thought, the other my desire, | |These present-absent with swift motion slide. | |For when these quicker elements are gone | |In tender embassy of love to thee, | |My life, being made of four, with two alone | |Sinks down to death, oppress'd with melancholy; | |Until life's composition be recured | |By those swift messengers return'd from thee, | |Who even but now come back again, assured | |Of thy fair health, recounting it to me: | | This told, I joy; but then no longer glad, | | I send them back again and straight grow sad. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 46 |XLVI. | |Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war | |How to divide the conquest of thy sight; | |Mine eye my heart thy picture's sight would bar, | |My heart mine eye the freedom of that right. | |My heart doth plead that thou in him dost lie-- | |A closet never pierced with crystal eyes-- | |But the defendant doth that plea deny | |And says in him thy fair appearance lies. | |To 'cide this title is impanneled | |A quest of thoughts, all tenants to the heart, | |And by their verdict is determined | |The clear eye's moiety and the dear heart's part:| | | | As thus; mine eye's due is thy outward part, | | And my heart's right thy inward love of heart. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 47 |XLVII. | |Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is took, | |And each doth good turns now unto the other: | |When that mine eye is famish'd for a look, | |Or heart in love with sighs himself doth smother,| | | |With my love's picture then my eye doth feast | |And to the painted banquet bids my heart; | |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, | |Thyself away art resent 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. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 48 |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 of 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. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 49 |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 advised 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 myself 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. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 50 |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 loved 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. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 51 |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 no 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. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 52 |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 the 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 lack'd, to hope. | |Sonnets of William Shakespeare | |Sonnet 53 | |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. | | | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 54 |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 fade, my verse distills your | |truth. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 55 |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 lover's eyes. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 56 |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 sharpen'd in his former might: | |So, love, be thou; although to-day thou fill | |Thy hungry eyes even till they wink with | |fullness, | |To-morrow see again, and do not kill | |The spirit of love with a perpetual dullness. | |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; | | Else call it winter, which being full of care | | Makes summer's welcome thrice more wish'd, more| |rare. | |Sonnets of William Shakespeare | |Sonnet 57 | |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 any thing, he thinks no ill. | | | |Sonnets of William Shakespeare | |Sonnet 58 | |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 cheque, | |Without accusing you of injury. | |Be where you list, your charter is so strong | |That you yourself may privilege 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. | | | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 59 |LIX. | |If there be nothing new, but that which is | |Hath been before, how are our brains beguiled, | |Which, labouring for invention, bear amiss | |The second burden of a former child! | |O, that record could with a backward look, | |Even of five hundred courses of the sun, | |Show me your image in some antique book, | |Since mind at first in character was done! | |That I might see what the old world could say | |To this composed wonder of your frame; | |Whether we are mended, or whether better they, | |Or whether revolution be the same. | | O, sure I am, the wits of former days | | To subjects worse have given admiring praise. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 60 |LX. | |Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore,| | | |So do our minutes hasten to their end; | |Each changing place with that which goes before, | |In sequent toil all forwards do contend. | |Nativity, once in the main of light, | |Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown'd, | |Crooked elipses 'gainst his glory fight, | |And Time that gave doth now his gift confound. | |Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth | |And delves the parallels in beauty's brow, | |Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth, | |And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow: | | And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand, | | Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 61 |LXI. | |Is it thy will thy image should keep open | |My heavy eyelids to the weary night? | |Dost thou desire my slumbers should be broken, | |While shadows like to thee do mock my sight? | |Is it thy spirit that thou send'st from thee | |So far from home into my deeds to pry, | |To find out shames and idle hours in me, | |The scope and tenor of thy jealousy? | |O, no! thy love, though much, is not so great: | |It is my love that keeps mine eye awake; | |Mine own true love that doth my rest defeat, | |To play the watchman ever for thy sake: | | For thee watch I whilst thou dost wake | |elsewhere, | | From me far off, with others all too near. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 62 |LXII. | |Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eye | |And all my soul and all my every part; | |And for this sin there is no remedy, | |It is so grounded inward in my heart. | |Methinks no face so gracious is as mine, | |No shape so true, no truth of such account; | |And for myself mine own worth do define, | |As I all other in all worths surmount. | |But when my glass shows me myself indeed, | |Beated and chopp'd with tann'd antiquity, | |Mine own self-love quite contrary I read; | |Self so self-loving were iniquity. | | 'Tis thee, myself, that for myself I praise, | | Painting my age with beauty of thy days. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 63 |LXIII. | |Against my love shall be, as I am now, | |With Time's injurious hand crush'd and o'er-worn;| | | |When hours have drain'd his blood and fill'd his | |brow | |With lines and wrinkles; when his youthful morn | |Hath travell'd on to age's steepy night, | |And all those beauties whereof now he's king | |Are vanishing or vanish'd out of sight, | |Stealing away the treasure of his spring; | |For such a time do I now fortify | |Against confounding age's cruel knife, | |That he shall never cut from memory | |My sweet love's beauty, though my lover's life: | | His beauty shall in these black lines be seen, | | And they shall live, and he in them still | |green. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 64 |LXIV. | |When I have seen by Time's fell hand defaced | |The rich proud cost of outworn buried age; | |When sometime lofty towers I see down-razed | |And brass eternal slave to mortal rage; | |When I have seen the hungry ocean gain | |Advantage on the kingdom of the shore, | |And the firm soil win of the watery main, | |Increasing store with loss and loss with store; | |When I have seen such interchange of state, | |Or state itself confounded to decay; | |Ruin hath taught me thus to ruminate, | |That Time will come and take my love away. | | This thought is as a death, which cannot choose| | | | But weep to have that which it fears to lose. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 65 |LXV. | |Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless | |sea, | |But sad mortality o'er-sways their power, | |How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea, | |Whose action is no stronger than a flower? | |O, how shall summer's honey breath hold out | |Against the wreckful siege of battering days, | |When rocks impregnable are not so stout, | |Nor gates of steel so strong, but Time decays? | |O fearful meditation! where, alack, | |Shall Time's best jewel from Time's chest lie | |hid? | |Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back?| | | |Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid? | | O, none, unless this miracle have might, | | That in black ink my love may still shine | |bright. | |Sonnets of William Shakespeare | |Sonnet 66 | |LXVI. | |Tired with all these, for restful death I cry, | |As, to behold desert a beggar born, | |And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity, | |And purest faith unhappily forsworn, | |And guilded honour shamefully misplaced, | |And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted, | |And right perfection wrongfully disgraced, | |And strength by limping sway disabled, | |And art made tongue-tied by authority, | |And folly doctor-like controlling skill, | |And simple truth miscall'd simplicity, | |And captive good attending captain ill: | | Tired with all these, from these would I be gone, | | Save that, to die, I leave my love alone. | | | |Sonnets of William Shakespeare | |Sonnet 67 | |LXVII. | |Ah! wherefore with infection should he live, | |And with his presence grace impiety, | |That sin by him advantage should achieve | |And lace itself with his society? | |Why should false painting imitate his cheek | |And steal dead seeing of his living hue? | |Why should poor beauty indirectly seek | |Roses of shadow, since his rose is true? | |Why should he live, now Nature bankrupt is, | |Beggar'd of blood to blush through lively veins? | |For she hath no exchequer now but his, | |And, proud of many, lives upon his gains. | | O, him she stores, to show what wealth she had | | In days long since, before these last so bad. | | | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 68 |LXVIII. | |Thus is his cheek the map of days outworn, | |When beauty lived and died as flowers do now, | |Before the bastard signs of fair were born, | |Or durst inhabit on a living brow; | |Before the golden tresses of the dead, | |The right of sepulchres, were shorn away, | |To live a second life on second head; | |Ere beauty's dead fleece made another gay: | |In him those holy antique hours are seen, | |Without all ornament, itself and true, | |Making no summer of another's green, | |Robbing no old to dress his beauty new; | | And him as for a map doth Nature store, | | To show false Art what beauty was of yore. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 69 |LXIX. | |Those parts of thee that the world's eye doth | |view | |Want nothing that the thought of hearts can mend;| | | |All tongues, the voice of souls, give thee that | |due, | |Uttering bare truth, even so as foes commend. | |Thy outward thus with outward praise is crown'd; | |But those same tongues that give thee so thine | |own | |In other accents do this praise confound | |By seeing farther than the eye hath shown. | |They look into the beauty of thy mind, | |And that, in guess, they measure by thy deeds; | |Then, churls, their thoughts, although their eyes| |were kind, | |To thy fair flower add the rank smell of weeds: | | But why thy odour matcheth not thy show, | | The solve is this, that thou dost common grow. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 70 |LXX. | |That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect, | |For slander's mark was ever yet the fair; | |The ornament of beauty is suspect, | |A crow that flies in heaven's sweetest air. | |So thou be good, slander doth but approve | |Thy worth the greater, being woo'd of time; | |For canker vice the sweetest buds doth love, | |And thou present'st a pure unstained prime. | |Thou hast pass'd by the ambush of young days, | |Either not assail'd or victor being charged; | |Yet this thy praise cannot be so thy praise, | |To tie up envy evermore enlarged: | | If some suspect of ill mask'd not thy show, | | Then thou alone kingdoms of hearts shouldst | |owe. | |Sonnets of William Shakespeare | |Sonnet 71 | |LXXI. | |No longer mourn for me when I am dead | |Then you shall hear the surly sullen bell | |Give warning to the world that I am fled | |From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell: | |Nay, if you read this line, remember not | |The hand that writ it; for I love you so | |That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot | |If thinking on me then should make you woe. | |O, if, I say, you look upon this verse | |When I perhaps compounded am with clay, | |Do not so much as my poor name rehearse. | |But let your love even with my life decay, | | Lest the wise world should look into your moan | | And mock you with me after I am gone. | | | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 72 |LXXII. | |O, lest the world should task you to recite | |What merit lived in me, that you should love | |After my death, dear love, forget me quite, | |For you in me can nothing worthy prove; | |Unless you would devise some virtuous lie, | |To do more for me than mine own desert, | |And hang more praise upon deceased I | |Than niggard truth would willingly impart: | |O, lest your true love may seem false in this, | |That you for love speak well of me untrue, | |My name be buried where my body is, | |And live no more to shame nor me nor you. | | For I am shamed by that which I bring forth, | | And so should you, to love things nothing | |worth. | |Sonnets of William Shakespeare | |Sonnet 73 | |LXXIII. | |That time of year thou mayst in me behold | |When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang | |Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, | |Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. | |In me thou seest the twilight of such day | |As after sunset fadeth in the west, | |Which by and by black night doth take away, | |Death's second self, that seals up all in rest. | |In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire | |That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, | |As the death-bed whereon it must expire | |Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by. | | This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong, | | To love that well which thou must leave ere long. | | | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 74 |LXXIV. | |But be contented: when that fell arrest | |Without all bail shall carry me away, | |My life hath in this line some interest, | |Which for memorial still with thee shall stay. | |When thou reviewest this, thou dost review | |The very part was consecrate to thee: | |The earth can have but earth, which is his due; | |My spirit is thine, the better part of me: | |So then thou hast but lost the dregs of life, | |The prey of worms, my body being dead, | |The coward conquest of a wretch's knife, | |Too base of thee to be remembered. | | The worth of that is that which it contains, | | And that is this, and this with thee remains. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 75 |LXXV. | |So are you to my thoughts as food to life, | |Or as sweet-season'd showers are to the ground; | |And for the peace of you I hold such strife | |As 'twixt a miser and his wealth is found; | |Now proud as an enjoyer and anon | |Doubting the filching age will steal his | |treasure, | |Now counting best to be with you alone, | |Then better'd that the world may see my pleasure;| | | |Sometime all full with feasting on your sight | |And by and by clean starved for a look; | |Possessing or pursuing no delight, | |Save what is had or must from you be took. | | Thus do I pine and surfeit day by day, | | Or gluttoning on all, or all away. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 76 |LXXVI. | |Why is my verse so barren of new pride, | |So far from variation or quick change? | |Why with the time do I not glance aside | |To new-found methods and to compounds strange? | |Why write I still all one, ever the same, | |And keep invention in a noted weed, | |That every word doth almost tell my name, | |Showing their birth and where they did proceed? | |O, know, sweet love, I always write of you, | |And you and love are still my argument; | |So all my best is dressing old words new, | |Spending again what is already spent: | | For as the sun is daily new and old, | | So is my love still telling what is told. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 77 |LXXVII. | |Thy glass will show thee how thy beauties wear, | |Thy dial how thy precious minutes waste; | |The vacant leaves thy mind's imprint will bear, | |And of this book this learning mayst thou taste. | |The wrinkles which thy glass will truly show | |Of mouthed graves will give thee memory; | |Thou by thy dial's shady stealth mayst know | |Time's thievish progress to eternity. | |Look, what thy memory can not contain | |Commit to these waste blanks, and thou shalt find| | | |Those children nursed, deliver'd from thy brain, | |To take a new acquaintance of thy mind. | | These offices, so oft as thou wilt look, | | Shall profit thee and much enrich thy book. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 78 |LXXVIII. | |So oft have I invoked thee for my Muse | |And found such fair assistance in my verse | |As every alien pen hath got my use | |And under thee their poesy disperse. | |Thine eyes that taught the dumb on high to sing | |And heavy ignorance aloft to fly | |Have added feathers to the learned's wing | |And given grace a double majesty. | |Yet be most proud of that which I compile, | |Whose influence is thine and born of thee: | |In others' works thou dost but mend the style, | |And arts with thy sweet graces graced be; | | But thou art all my art and dost advance | | As high as learning my rude ignorance. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 79 |LXXIX. | |Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid, | |My verse alone had all thy gentle grace, | |But now my gracious numbers are decay'd | |And my sick Muse doth give another place. | |I grant, sweet love, thy lovely argument | |Deserves the travail of a worthier pen, | |Yet what of thee thy poet doth invent | |He robs thee of and pays it thee again. | |He lends thee virtue and he stole that word | |From thy behavior; beauty doth he give | |And found it in thy cheek; he can afford | |No praise to thee but what in thee doth live. | | Then thank him not for that which he doth say, | | Since what he owes thee thou thyself dost pay. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 80 |LXXX. | |O, how I faint when I of you do write, | |Knowing a better spirit doth use your name, | |And in the praise thereof spends all his might, | |To make me tongue-tied, speaking of your fame! | |But since your worth, wide as the ocean is, | |The humble as the proudest sail doth bear, | |My saucy bark inferior far to his | |On your broad main doth wilfully appear. | |Your shallowest help will hold me up afloat, | |Whilst he upon your soundless deep doth ride; | |Or being wreck'd, I am a worthless boat, | |He of tall building and of goodly pride: | | Then if he thrive and I be cast away, | | The worst was this; my love was my decay. | |Sonnets of William Shakespeare | |Sonnet 81 | |LXXXI. | |Or I shall live your epitaph to make, | |Or you survive when I in earth am rotten; | |From hence your memory death cannot take, | |Although in me each part will be forgotten. | |Your name from hence immortal life shall have, | |Though I, once gone, to all the world must die: | |The earth can yield me but a common grave, | |When you entombed in men's eyes shall lie. | |Your monument shall be my gentle verse, | |Which eyes not yet created shall o'er-read, | |And tongues to be your being shall rehearse | |When all the breathers of this world are dead; | | You still shall live--such virtue hath my pen-- | | Where breath most breathes, even in the mouths of men. | | | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 82 |LXXXII. | |I grant thou wert not married to my Muse | |And therefore mayst without attaint o'erlook | |The dedicated words which writers use | |Of their fair subject, blessing every book | |Thou art as fair in knowledge as in hue, | |Finding thy worth a limit past my praise, | |And therefore art enforced to seek anew | |Some fresher stamp of the time-bettering days | |And do so, love; yet when they have devised | |What strained touches rhetoric can lend, | |Thou truly fair wert truly sympathized | |In true plain words by thy true-telling friend; | | And their gross painting might be better used | | Where cheeks need blood; in thee it is abused. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 83 |LXXXIII. | |I never saw that you did painting need | |And therefore to your fair no painting set; | |I found, or thought I found, you did exceed | |The barren tender of a poet's debt; | |And therefore have I slept in your report, | |That you yourself being extant well might show | |How far a modern quill doth come too short, | |Speaking of worth, what worth in you doth grow. | |This silence for my sin you did impute, | |Which shall be most my glory, being dumb; | |For I impair not beauty being mute, | |When others would give life and bring a tomb. | | There lives more life in one of your fair eyes | | Than both your poets can in praise devise. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 84 |LXXXIV. | |Who is it that says most? which can say more | |Than this rich praise, that you alone are you? | |In whose confine immured is the store | |Which should example where your equal grew. | |Lean penury within that pen doth dwell | |That to his subject lends not some small glory; | |But he that writes of you, if he can tell | |That you are you, so dignifies his story, | |Let him but copy what in you is writ, | |Not making worse what nature made so clear, | |And such a counterpart shall fame his wit, | |Making his style admired every where. | | You to your beauteous blessings add a curse, | | Being fond on praise, which makes your praises | |worse. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 85 |LXXXV. | |My tongue-tied Muse in manners holds her still, | |While comments of your praise, richly compiled, | |Reserve their character with golden quill | |And precious phrase by all the Muses filed. | |I think good thoughts whilst other write good | |words, | |And like unletter'd clerk still cry 'Amen' | |To every hymn that able spirit affords | |In polish'd form of well-refined pen. | |Hearing you praised, I say ''Tis so, 'tis true,' | |And to the most of praise add something more; | |But that is in my thought, whose love to you, | |Though words come hindmost, holds his rank | |before. | | Then others for the breath of words respect, | | Me for my dumb thoughts, speaking in effect. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 86 |LXXXVI. | |Was it the proud full sail of his great verse, | |Bound for the prize of all too precious you, | |That did my ripe thoughts in my brain inhearse, | |Making their tomb the womb wherein they grew? | |Was it his spirit, by spirits taught to write | |Above a mortal pitch, that struck me dead? | |No, neither he, nor his compeers by night | |Giving him aid, my verse astonished. | |He, nor that affable familiar ghost | |Which nightly gulls him with intelligence | |As victors of my silence cannot boast; | |I was not sick of any fear from thence: | | But when your countenance fill'd up his line, | | Then lack'd I matter; that enfeebled mine. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 87 |LXXXVII. | |Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing, | |And like enough thou know'st thy estimate: | |The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing; | |My bonds in thee are all determinate. | |For how do I hold thee but by thy granting? | |And for that riches where is my deserving? | |The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting, | |And so my patent back again is swerving. | |Thyself thou gavest, thy own worth then not | |knowing, | |
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