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Сонеты Шекспира|Or me, to whom thou gavest it, else mistaking; | |So thy great gift, upon misprision growing, | |Comes home again, on better judgment making. | | Thus have I had thee, as a dream doth flatter, | | In sleep a king, but waking no such matter. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 88 |LXXXVIII. | |When thou shalt be disposed to set me light, | |And place my merit in the eye of scorn, | |Upon thy side against myself I'll fight, | |And prove thee virtuous, though thou art | |forsworn. | |With mine own weakness being best acquainted, | |Upon thy part I can set down a story | |Of faults conceal'd, wherein I am attainted, | |That thou in losing me shalt win much glory: | |And I by this will be a gainer too; | |For bending all my loving thoughts on thee, | |The injuries that to myself I do, | |Doing thee vantage, double-vantage me. | | Such is my love, to thee I so belong, | | That for thy right myself will bear all wrong. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 89 |LXXXIX. | |Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault, | |And I will comment upon that offence; | |Speak of my lameness, and I straight will halt, | |Against thy reasons making no defence. | |Thou canst not, love, disgrace me half so ill, | |To set a form upon desired change, | |As I'll myself disgrace: knowing thy will, | |I will acquaintance strangle and look strange, | |Be absent from thy walks, and in my tongue | |Thy sweet beloved name no more shall dwell, | |Lest I, too much profane, should do it wrong | |And haply of our old acquaintance tell. | | For thee against myself I'll vow debate, | | For I must ne'er love him whom thou dost hate. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 90 |XC. | |Then hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now; | |Now, while the world is bent my deeds to cross, | |Join with the spite of fortune, make me bow, | |And do not drop in for an after-loss: | |Ah, do not, when my heart hath 'scoped this | |sorrow, | |Come in the rearward of a conquer'd woe; | |Give not a windy night a rainy morrow, | |To linger out a purposed overthrow. | |If thou wilt leave me, do not leave me last, | |When other petty griefs have done their spite | |But in the onset come; so shall I taste | |At first the very worst of fortune's might, | | And other strains of woe, which now seem woe, | | Compared with loss of thee will not seem so. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 91 |XCI. | |Some glory in their birth, some in their skill, | |Some in their wealth, some in their bodies' | |force, | |Some in their garments, though new-fangled ill, | |Some in their hawks and hounds, some in their | |horse; | |And every humour hath his adjunct pleasure, | |Wherein it finds a joy above the rest: | |But these particulars are not my measure; | |All these I better in one general best. | |Thy love is better than high birth to me, | |Richer than wealth, prouder than garments' cost, | |Of more delight than hawks or horses be; | |And having thee, of all men's pride I boast: | | Wretched in this alone, that thou mayst take | | All this away and me most wretched make. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 92 |XCII. | |But do thy worst to steal thyself away, | |For term of life thou art assured mine, | |And life no longer than thy love will stay, | |For it depends upon that love of thine. | |Then need I not to fear the worst of wrongs, | |When in the least of them my life hath end. | |I see a better state to me belongs | |Than that which on thy humour doth depend; | |Thou canst not vex me with inconstant mind, | |Since that my life on thy revolt doth lie. | |O, what a happy title do I find, | |Happy to have thy love, happy to die! | | But what's so blessed-fair that fears no blot? | | Thou mayst be false, and yet I know it not. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 93 |XCIII. | |So shall I live, supposing thou art true, | |Like a deceived husband; so love's face | |May still seem love to me, though alter'd new; | |Thy looks with me, thy heart in other place: | |For there can live no hatred in thine eye, | |Therefore in that I cannot know thy change. | |In many's looks the false heart's history | |Is writ in moods and frowns and wrinkles strange,| | | |But heaven in thy creation did decree | |That in thy face sweet love should ever dwell; | |Whate'er thy thoughts or thy heart's workings be,| | | |Thy looks should nothing thence but sweetness | |tell. | | How like Eve's apple doth thy beauty grow, | | if thy sweet virtue answer not thy show! | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 94 |XCIV. | |They that have power to hurt and will do none, | |That do not do the thing they most do show, | |Who, moving others, are themselves as stone, | |Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow, | |They rightly do inherit heaven's graces | |And husband nature's riches from expense; | |They are the lords and owners of their faces, | |Others but stewards of their excellence. | |The summer's flower is to the summer sweet, | |Though to itself it only live and die, | |But if that flower with base infection meet, | |The basest weed outbraves his dignity: | | For sweetest things turn sourest by their | |deeds; | | Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 95 |XCV. | |How sweet and lovely dost thou make the shame | |Which, like a canker in the fragrant rose, | |Doth spot the beauty of thy budding name! | |O, in what sweets dost thou thy sins enclose! | |That tongue that tells the story of thy days, | |Making lascivious comments on thy sport, | |Cannot dispraise but in a kind of praise; | |Naming thy name blesses an ill report. | |O, what a mansion have those vices got | |Which for their habitation chose out thee, | |Where beauty's veil doth cover every blot, | |And all things turn to fair that eyes can see! | | Take heed, dear heart, of this large privilege;| | | | The hardest knife ill-used doth lose his edge. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 96 |XCVI. | |Some say thy fault is youth, some wantonness; | |Some say thy grace is youth and gentle sport; | |Both grace and faults are loved of more and less;| | | |Thou makest faults graces that to thee resort. | |As on the finger of a throned queen | |The basest jewel will be well esteem'd, | |So are those errors that in thee are seen | |To truths translated and for true things deem'd. | |How many lambs might the stem wolf betray, | |If like a lamb he could his looks translate! | |How many gazers mightst thou lead away, | |If thou wouldst use the strength of all thy | |state! | | But do not so; I love thee in such sort | | As, thou being mine, mine is thy good report. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 97 |XCVII. | |How like a winter hath my absence been | |From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year! | |What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen! | |What old December's bareness every where! | |And yet this time removed was summer's time, | |The teeming autumn, big with rich increase, | |Bearing the wanton burden of the prime, | |Like widow'd wombs after their lords' decease: | |Yet this abundant issue seem'd to me | |But hope of orphans and unfather'd fruit; | |For summer and his pleasures wait on thee, | |And, thou away, the very birds are mute; | | Or, if they sing, 'tis with so dull a cheer | | That leaves look pale, dreading the winter's | |near. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 98 |XCVIII. | |From you have I been absent in the spring, | |When proud-pied April dress'd in all his trim | |Hath put a spirit of youth in every thing, | |That heavy Saturn laugh'd and leap'd with him. | |Yet nor the lays of birds nor the sweet smell | |Of different flowers in odour and in hue | |Could make me any summer's story tell, | |Or from their proud lap pluck them where they | |grew; | |Nor did I wonder at the lily's white, | |Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose; | |They were but sweet, but figures of delight, | |Drawn after you, you pattern of all those. | | Yet seem'd it winter still, and, you away, | | As with your shadow I with these did play. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 99 |XCIX. | |The forward violet thus did I chide: | |Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet | |that smells, | |If not from my love's breath? The purple pride | |Which on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells | |In my love's veins thou hast too grossly dyed. | |The lily I condemned for thy hand, | |And buds of marjoram had stol'n thy hair: | |The roses fearfully on thorns did stand, | |One blushing shame, another white despair; | |A third, nor red nor white, had stol'n of both | |And to his robbery had annex'd thy breath; | |But, for his theft, in pride of all his growth | |A vengeful canker eat him up to death. | | More flowers I noted, yet I none could see | | But sweet or colour it had stol'n from thee. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 100 |C. | |Where art thou, Muse, that thou forget'st so long| | | |To speak of that which gives thee all thy might? | |Spend'st thou thy fury on some worthless song, | |Darkening thy power to lend base subjects light? | |Return, forgetful Muse, and straight redeem | |In gentle numbers time so idly spent; | |Sing to the ear that doth thy lays esteem | |And gives thy pen both skill and argument. | |Rise, resty Muse, my love's sweet face survey, | |If Time have any wrinkle graven there; | |If any, be a satire to decay, | |And make Time's spoils despised every where. | | Give my love fame faster than Time wastes life;| | | | So thou prevent'st his scythe and crooked | |knife. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 101 |CI. | |O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends | |For thy neglect of truth in beauty dyed? | |Both truth and beauty on my love depends; | |So dost thou too, and therein dignified. | |Make answer, Muse: wilt thou not haply say | |'Truth needs no colour, with his colour fix'd; | |Beauty no pencil, beauty's truth to lay; | |But best is best, if never intermix'd?' | |Because he needs no praise, wilt thou be dumb? | |Excuse not silence so; for't lies in thee | |To make him much outlive a gilded tomb, | |And to be praised of ages yet to be. | | Then do thy office, Muse; I teach thee how | | To make him seem long hence as he shows now. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 102 |CII. | |My love is strengthen'd, though more weak in | |seeming; | |I love not less, though less the show appear: | |That love is merchandized whose rich esteeming | |The owner's tongue doth publish every where. | |Our love was new and then but in the spring | |When I was wont to greet it with my lays, | |As Philomel in summer's front doth sing | |And stops her pipe in growth of riper days: | |Not that the summer is less pleasant now | |Than when her mournful hymns did hush the night, | |But that wild music burthens every bough | |And sweets grown common lose their dear delight. | | Therefore like her I sometime hold my tongue, | | Because I would not dull you with my song. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 103 |CIII. | |Alack, what poverty my Muse brings forth, | |That having such a scope to show her pride, | |The argument all bare is of more worth | |Than when it hath my added praise beside! | |O, blame me not, if I no more can write! | |Look in your glass, and there appears a face | |That over-goes my blunt invention quite, | |Dulling my lines and doing me disgrace. | |Were it not sinful then, striving to mend, | |To mar the subject that before was well? | |For to no other pass my verses tend | |Than of your graces and your gifts to tell; | | And more, much more, than in my verse can sit | | Your own glass shows you when you look in it. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 104 |CIV. | |To me, fair friend, you never can be old, | |For as you were when first your eye I eyed, | |Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold | |Have from the forests shook three summers' pride,| | | |Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turn'd | |In process of the seasons have I seen, | |Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burn'd, | |Since first I saw you fresh, which yet are green.| | | |Ah! yet doth beauty, like a dial-hand, | |Steal from his figure and no pace perceived; | |So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth | |stand, | |Hath motion and mine eye may be deceived: | | For fear of which, hear this, thou age unbred; | | Ere you were born was beauty's summer dead. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 105 |CV. | |Let not my love be call'd idolatry, | |Nor my beloved as an idol show, | |Since all alike my songs and praises be | |To one, of one, still such, and ever so. | |Kind is my love to-day, to-morrow kind, | |Still constant in a wondrous excellence; | |Therefore my verse to constancy confined, | |One thing expressing, leaves out difference. | |'Fair, kind and true' is all my argument, | |'Fair, kind, and true' varying to other words; | |And in this change is my invention spent, | |Three themes in one, which wondrous scope | |affords. | | 'Fair, kind, and true,' have often lived alone,| | | | Which three till now never kept seat in one. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 106 |CVI. | |When in the chronicle of wasted time | |I see descriptions of the fairest wights, | |And beauty making beautiful old rhyme | |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 look'd but with divining eyes, | |They had not skill enough your worth to sing: | | For we, which now behold these present days, | | Had eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise.| Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 107 |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 confined doom. | |The mortal moon hath her eclipse endured | |And the sad augurs mock their own presage; | |Incertainties now crown themselves assured | |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 | |rhyme, | |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. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 108 |CVIII. | |What's in the brain that ink may character | |Which hath not figured to thee my true spirit? | |What's new to speak, what new 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.| Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 109 |CIX. | |O, never say that I was false of heart, | |Though absence seem'd my flame to qualify. | |As easy might I from myself depart | |As from my soul, which in thy breast doth lie: | |That is my home of love: if I have ranged, | |Like him that travels I return again, | |Just to the time, not with the time exchanged, | |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. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 110 |CX. | |Alas, 'tis true I have gone here and there | |And made myself a motley to the view, | |Gored 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 proved thee my best of love. | |Now all is done, have 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 confined. | | Then give me welcome, next my heaven the best, | | Even to thy pure and most most loving breast. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 111 |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 subdued | |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. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 112 |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. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 113 |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 rudest 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 makes mine eye untrue. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 114 |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. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 115 |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? | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 116 |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 proved, | | I never writ, nor no man ever loved. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 117 |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-purchased 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. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 118 |CXVIII. | |Like as, to make our appetites more keen, | |With eager compounds we our palate urge, | |As, to prevent our maladies unseen, | |We sicken to shun sickness when we purge, | |Even so, being tuff of your ne'er-cloying | |sweetness, | |To bitter sauces did I frame my feeding | |And, sick of welfare, found a kind of meetness | |To be diseased ere that there was true needing. | |Thus policy in love, to anticipate | |The ills that were not, grew to faults assured | |And brought to medicine a healthful state | |Which, rank of goodness, would by ill be cured: | | But thence I learn, and find the lesson true, | | Drugs poison him that so fell sick of you. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 119 |CXIX. | |What potions have I drunk of Siren tears, | |Distill'd from limbecks foul as hell within, | |Applying fears to hopes and hopes to fears, | |Still losing when I saw myself to win! | |What wretched errors hath my heart committed, | |Whilst it hath thought itself so blessed never! | |How have mine eyes out of their spheres been | |fitted | |In the distraction of this madding fever! | |O benefit of ill! now I find true | |That better is by evil still made better; | |And ruin'd love, when it is built anew, | |Grows fairer than at first, more strong, far | |greater. | | So I return rebuked to my content | | And gain by ill thrice more than I have spent. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 120 |CXX. | |That you were once unkind befriends me now, | |And for that sorrow which I then did feel | |Needs must I under my transgression bow, | |Unless my nerves were brass or hammer'd steel. | |For if you were by my unkindness shaken | |As I by yours, you've pass'd a hell of time, | |And I, a tyrant, have no leisure taken | |To weigh how once I suffered in your crime. | |O, that our night of woe might have remember'd | |My deepest sense, how hard true sorrow hits, | |And soon to you, as you to me, then tender'd | |The humble slave which wounded bosoms fits! | | But that your trespass now becomes a fee; | | Mine ransoms yours, and yours must ransom me. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 121 |CXXI. | |'Tis better to be vile than vile esteem'd, | |When not to be receives reproach of being, | |And the just pleasure lost which is so deem'd | |Not by our feeling but by others' seeing: | |For why should others false adulterate eyes | |Give salutation to my sportive blood? | |Or on my frailties why are frailer spies, | |Which in their wills count bad what I think good?| | | |No, I am that I am, and they that level | |At my abuses reckon up their own: | |I may be straight, though they themselves be | |bevel; | |By their rank thoughts my deeds must not be | |shown; | | Unless this general evil they maintain, | | All men are bad, and in their badness reign. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 122 |CXXII. | |Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brain | |Full character'd with lasting memory, | |Which shall above that idle rank remain | |Beyond all date, even to eternity; | |Or at the least, so long as brain and heart | |Have faculty by nature to subsist; | |Till each to razed oblivion yield his part | |Of thee, thy record never can be miss'd. | |That poor retention could not so much hold, | |Nor need I tallies thy dear love to score; | |Therefore to give them from me was I bold, | |To trust those tables that receive thee more: | | To keep an adjunct to remember thee | | Were to import forgetfulness in me. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 123 |CXXIII. | |No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change: | |Thy pyramids built up with newer might | |To me are nothing novel, nothing strange; | |They are but dressings of a former sight. | |Our dates are brief, and therefore we admire | |What thou dost foist upon us that is old, | |And rather make them born to our desire | |Than think that we before have heard them told. | |Thy registers and thee I both defy, | |Not wondering at the present nor the past, | |For thy records and what we see doth lie, | |Made more or less by thy continual haste. | | This I do vow and this shall ever be; | | I will be true, despite thy scythe and thee. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 124 |CXXIV. | |If my dear love were but the child of state, | |It might for Fortune's bastard be unfather'd' | |As subject to Time's love or to Time's hate, | |Weeds among weeds, or flowers with flowers | |gather'd. | |No, it was builded far from accident; | |It suffers not in smiling pomp, nor falls | |Under the blow of thralled discontent, | |Whereto the inviting time our fashion calls: | |It fears not policy, that heretic, | |Which works on leases of short-number'd hours, | |But all alone stands hugely politic, | |That it nor grows with heat nor drowns with | |showers. | | To this I witness call the fools of time, | | Which die for goodness, who have lived for | |crime. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 125 |CXXV. | |Were 't aught to me I bore the canopy, | |With my extern the outward honouring, | |Or laid great bases for eternity, | |Which prove more short than waste or ruining? | |Have I not seen dwellers on form and favour | |Lose all, and more, by paying too much rent, | |For compound sweet forgoing simple savour, | |Pitiful thrivers, in their gazing spent? | |No, let me be obsequious in thy heart, | |And take thou my oblation, poor but free, | |Which is not mix'd with seconds, knows no art, | |But mutual render, only me for thee. | | Hence, thou suborn'd informer! a true soul | | When most impeach'd stands least in thy | |control. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 126 |CXXVI. | |O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power | |Dost hold Time's fickle glass, his sickle, hour; | |Who hast by waning grown, and therein show'st | |Thy lovers withering as thy sweet self grow'st; | |If Nature, sovereign mistress over wrack, | |As thou goest onwards, still will pluck thee | |back, | |She keeps thee to this purpose, that her skill | |May time disgrace and wretched minutes kill. | |Yet fear her, O thou minion of her pleasure! | |She may detain, but not still keep, her treasure:| | | | Her audit, though delay'd, answer'd must be, | | And her quietus is to render thee. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 127 |CXXVII. | |In the old age black was not counted fair, | |Or if it were, it bore not beauty's name; | |But now is black beauty's successive heir, | |And beauty slander'd with a bastard shame: | |For since each hand hath put on nature's power, | |Fairing the foul with art's false borrow'd face, | |Sweet beauty hath no name, no holy bower, | |But is profaned, if not lives in disgrace. | |Therefore my mistress' brows are raven black, | |Her eyes so suited, and they mourners seem | |At such who, not born fair, no beauty lack, | |Slandering creation with a false esteem: | | Yet so they mourn, becoming of their woe, | | That every tongue says beauty should look so. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 128 |CXXVIII. | |How oft, when thou, my music, music play'st, | |Upon that blessed wood whose motion sounds | |With thy sweet fingers, when thou gently sway'st | |The wiry concord that mine ear confounds, | |Do I envy those jacks that nimble leap | |To kiss the tender inward of thy hand, | |Whilst my poor lips, which should that harvest | |reap, | |At the wood's boldness by thee blushing stand! | |To be so tickled, they would change their state | |And situation with those dancing chips, | |O'er whom thy fingers walk with gentle gait, | |Making dead wood more blest than living lips. | | Since saucy jacks so happy are in this, | | Give them thy fingers, me thy lips to kiss. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 129 |CXXIX. | |The expense of spirit in a waste of shame | |Is lust in action; and till action, lust | |Is perjured, murderous, bloody, full of blame, | |Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust, | |Enjoy'd no sooner but despised straight, | |Past reason hunted, and no sooner had | |Past reason hated, as a swallow'd bait | |On purpose laid to make the taker mad; | |Mad in pursuit and in possession so; | |Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme; | |A bliss in proof, and proved, a very woe; | |Before, a joy proposed; behind, a dream. | | All this the world well knows; yet none knows | |well | | To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell.| Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 130 |CXXX. | |My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun; | |Coral is far more red than her lips' red; | |If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun; | |If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head. | |I have seen roses damask'd, red and white, | |But no such roses see I in her cheeks; | |And in some perfumes is there more delight | |Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks. | |I love to hear her speak, yet well I know | |That music hath a far more pleasing sound; | |I grant I never saw a goddess go; | |My mistress, when she walks, treads on the | |ground: | | And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare | | As any she belied with false compare. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 131 |CXXXI. | |Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art, | |As those whose beauties proudly make them cruel; | |For well thou know'st to my dear doting heart | |Thou art the fairest and most precious jewel. | |Yet, in good faith, some say that thee behold | |Thy face hath not the power to make love groan: | |To say they err I dare not be so bold, | |Although I swear it to myself alone. | |And, to be sure that is not false I swear, | |A thousand groans, but thinking on thy face, | |One on another's neck, do witness bear | |Thy black is fairest in my judgment's place. | | In nothing art thou black save in thy deeds, | | And thence this slander, as I think, proceeds. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 132 |CXXXII. | |Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying me, | |Knowing thy heart torments me with disdain, | |Have put on black and loving mourners be, | |Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain. | |And truly not the morning sun of heaven | |Better becomes the grey cheeks of the east, | |Nor that full star that ushers in the even | |Doth half that glory to the sober west, | |As those two mourning eyes become thy face: | |O, let it then as well beseem thy heart | |To mourn for me, since mourning doth thee grace, | |And suit thy pity like in every part. | | Then will I swear beauty herself is black | | And all they foul that thy complexion lack. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 133 |CXXXIII. | |Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan | |For that deep wound it gives my friend and me! | |Is't not enough to torture me alone, | |But slave to slavery my sweet'st friend must be? | |Me from myself thy cruel eye hath taken, | |And my next self thou harder hast engross'd: | |Of him, myself, and thee, I am forsaken; | |A torment thrice threefold thus to be cross'd. | |Prison my heart in thy steel bosom's ward, | |But then my friend's heart let my poor heart | |bail; | |Whoe'er keeps me, let my heart be his guard; | |Thou canst not then use rigor in my gaol: | | And yet thou wilt; for I, being pent in thee, | | Perforce am thine, and all that is in me. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 134 |CXXXIV. | |So, now I have confess'd that he is thine, | |And I myself am mortgaged to thy will, | |Myself I'll forfeit, so that other mine | |Thou wilt restore, to be my comfort still: | |But thou wilt not, nor he will not be free, | |For thou art covetous and he is kind; | |He learn'd but surety-like to write for me | |Under that bond that him as fast doth bind. | |The statute of thy beauty thou wilt take, | |Thou usurer, that put'st forth all to use, | |And sue a friend came debtor for my sake; | |So him I lose through my unkind abuse. | | Him have I lost; thou hast both him and me: | | He pays the whole, and yet am I not free. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 135 |CXXXV. | |Whoever hath her wish, thou hast thy 'Will,' | |And 'Will' to boot, and 'Will' in overplus; | |More than enough am I that vex thee still, | |To thy sweet will making addition thus. | |Wilt thou, whose will is large and spacious, | |Not once vouchsafe to hide my will in thine? | |Shall will in others seem right gracious, | |And in my will no fair acceptance shine? | |The sea all water, yet receives rain still | |And in abundance addeth to his store; | |So thou, being rich in 'Will,' add to thy 'Will' | |One will of mine, to make thy large 'Will' more. | | Let no unkind, no fair beseechers kill; | | Think all but one, and me in that one 'Will.' | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 136 |CXXXVI. | |If thy soul cheque thee that I come so near, | |Swear to thy blind soul that I was thy 'Will,' | |And will, thy soul knows, is admitted there; | |Thus far for love my love-suit, sweet, fulfil. | |'Will' will fulfil the treasure of thy love, | |Ay, fill it full with wills, and my will one. | |In things of great receipt with ease we prove | |Among a number one is reckon'd none: | |Then in the number let me pass untold, | |Though in thy stores' account I one must be; | |For nothing hold me, so it please thee hold | |That nothing me, a something sweet to thee: | | Make but my name thy love, and love that still,| | | | And then thou lovest me, for my name is 'Will.'| Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 137 |CXXXVII. | |Thou blind fool, Love, what dost thou to mine | |eyes, | |That they behold, and see not what they see? | |They know what beauty is, see where it lies, | |Yet what the best is take the worst to be. | |If eyes corrupt by over-partial looks | |Be anchor'd in the bay where all men ride, | |Why of eyes' falsehood hast thou forged hooks, | |Whereto the judgment of my heart is tied? | |Why should my heart think that a several plot | |Which my heart knows the wide world's common | |place? | |Or mine eyes seeing this, say this is not, | |To put fair truth upon so foul a face? | | In things right true my heart and eyes have | |erred, | | And to this false plague are they now | |transferr'd. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 138 |CXXXVIII. | |When my love swears that she is made of truth | |I do believe her, though I know she lies, | |That she might think me some untutor'd youth, | |Unlearned in the world's false subtleties. | |Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young, | |Although she knows my days are past the best, | |Simply I credit her false speaking tongue: | |On both sides thus is simple truth suppress'd. | |But wherefore says she not she is unjust? | |And wherefore say not I that I am old? | |O, love's best habit is in seeming trust, | |And age in love loves not to have years told: | | Therefore I lie with her and she with me, | | And in our faults by lies we flatter'd be. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 139 |CXXXIX. | |O, call not me to justify the wrong | |That thy unkindness lays upon my heart; | |Wound me not with thine eye but with thy tongue; | |Use power with power and slay me not by art. | |Tell me thou lovest elsewhere, but in my sight, | |Dear heart, forbear to glance thine eye aside: | |What need'st thou wound with cunning when thy | |might | |Is more than my o'er-press'd defense can bide? | |Let me excuse thee: ah! my love well knows | |Her pretty looks have been mine enemies, | |And therefore from my face she turns my foes, | |That they elsewhere might dart their injuries: | | Yet do not so; but since I am near slain, | | Kill me outright with looks and rid my pain. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 140 |CXL. | |Be wise as thou art cruel; do not press | |My tongue-tied patience with too much disdain; | |Lest sorrow lend me words and words express | |The manner of my pity-wanting pain. | |If I might teach thee wit, better it were, | |Though not to love, yet, love, to tell me so; | |As testy sick men, when their deaths be near, | |No news but health from their physicians know; | |For if I should despair, I should grow mad, | |And in my madness might speak ill of thee: | |Now this ill-wresting world is grown so bad, | |Mad slanderers by mad ears believed be, | | That I may not be so, nor thou belied, | | Bear thine eyes straight, though thy proud | |heart go wide. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 141 |CXLI. | |In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes, | |For they in thee a thousand errors note; | |But 'tis my heart that loves what they despise, | |Who in despite of view is pleased to dote; | |Nor are mine ears with thy tongue's tune | |delighted, | |Nor tender feeling, to base touches prone, | |Nor taste, nor smell, desire to be invited | |To any sensual feast with thee alone: | |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 hearts slave and vassal wretch to be: | | Only my plague thus far I count my gain, | | That she that makes me sin awards me pain. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 142 |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 profaned 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 lovest 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! | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 143 |CXLIII. | |Lo! as a careful housewife runs to catch | |One of her feather'd creatures broke away, | |Sets down her babe and makes an 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. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 144 |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, but 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. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 145 |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 used in giving gentle doom, | |And taught it thus anew to greet: | |'I hate' she alter'd with an end, | |That follow'd 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 saved my life, saying 'not you.' | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 146 |CXLVI. | |Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth, | |[ ] these rebel powers that thee 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 shalt thou feed on Death, that feeds on men,| | | | And Death once dead, there's no more dying | |then. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 147 |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. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 148 |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 vex'd 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. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 149 |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 myself, 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 myself 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 lovest, and I am blind.| Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 150 |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 warrantize 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 raised love in me, | | More worthy I to be beloved of thee. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 151 |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 father 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.| Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 152 |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 perjured 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 perjured I, | | To swear against the truth so foul a lie! | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 153 |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; | |Which borrow'd from this holy fire of Love | |A dateless lively heat, still to endure, | |And grew a seething bath, which yet men prove | |Against strange maladies a sovereign cure. | |But at my mistress' eye Love's brand new-fired, | |The boy for trial needs would touch my breast; | |I, sick withal, the help of bath desired, | |And thither hied, a sad distemper'd guest, | | But found no cure: the bath for my help lies | | Where Cupid got new fire--my mistress' eyes. | Sonnets of William Shakespeare Sonnet 154 |CLIV. | |The little Love-god lying once asleep | |Laid by his side his heart-inflaming brand, | |Whilst many nymphs that vow'd chaste life to keep| | | |Came tripping by; but in her maiden hand | |The fairest votary took up that fire | |Which many legions of true hearts had warm'd; | |And so the general of hot desire | |Was sleeping by a virgin hand disarm'd. | |This brand she quenched in a cool well by, | |Which from Love's fire took heat perpetual, | |Growing a bath and healthful remedy | |For men diseased; but I, my mistress' thrall, | | Came there for cure, and this by that I prove, | | Love's fire heats water, water cools not love. | |
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