The Sonnets (Modern)

Author: William Shakespeare

Editor: Michael Best

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The Sonnets (Modern)
- Work
- Poem
  1. Dedication
  2. 1 — 3
  3. 4 — 6
  4. 7 — 9
  5. 10 — 12
  6. 13 — 15
  7. 16 — 18
  8. 19 — 21
  9. 22 — 24
  10. 25 — 27
  11. 28 — 30
  12. 31 — 33
  13. 34 — 36
  14. 37 — 39
  15. 40 — 42
  16. 43 — 45
  17. 46 — 48
  18. 49 — 51
  19. 52 — 54
  20. 55 — 57
  21. 58 — 60
  22. 61 — 63
  23. 64 — 66
  24. 67 — 69
  25. 70 — 72
  26. 73 — 75
  27. 76 — 78
  28. 79 — 81
  29. 82 — 84
  30. 85 — 87
  31. 88 — 90
  32. 91 — 93
  33. 94 — 96
  34. 97 — 99
  35. 100 — 102
  36. 103 — 105
  37. 106 — 108
  38. 109 — 111
  39. 112 — 114
  40. 115 — 117
  41. 118 — 120
  42. 121 — 123
  43. 124 — 126
  44. 127 — 129
  45. 130 — 132
  46. 133 — 135
  47. 136 — 138
  48. 139 — 141
  49. 142 — 144
  50. 145 — 147
  51. 148 — 150
  52. 151 — 153
  53. 154
Shake-speares Sonnets (Quarto 1, 1609)
- Work
- Poem
  1. Titlepage
  2. Dedication
  3. 1 — 3
  4. 4 — 6
  5. 7 — 9
  6. 10 — 12
  7. 13 — 15
  8. 16 — 18
  9. 19 — 21
  10. 22 — 24
  11. 25 — 27
  12. 28 — 30
  13. 31 — 33
  14. 34 — 36
  15. 37 — 39
  16. 40 — 42
  17. 43 — 45
  18. 46 — 48
  19. 49 — 51
  20. 52 — 54
  21. 55 — 57
  22. 58 — 60
  23. 61 — 63
  24. 64 — 66
  25. 67 — 69
  26. 70 — 72
  27. 73 — 75
  28. 76 — 78
  29. 79 — 81
  30. 82 — 84
  31. 85 — 87
  32. 88 — 90
  33. 91 — 93
  34. 94 — 96
  35. 97 — 99
  36. 100 — 102
  37. 103 — 105
  38. 106 — 108
  39. 109 — 111
  40. 112 — 114
  41. 115 — 117
  42. 118 — 120
  43. 121 — 123
  44. 124 — 126
  45. 127 — 129
  46. 130 — 132
  47. 133 — 135
  48. 136 — 138
  49. 139 — 141
  50. 142 — 144
  51. 145 — 147
  52. 148 — 150
  53. 151 — 153
  54. 154
- Page
  1. 1
  2. 2
  3. 3
  4. 4
  5. 5
  6. 6
  7. 7
  8. 8
  9. 9
  10. 10
  11. 11
  12. 12
  13. 13
  14. 14
  15. 15
  16. 16
  17. 17
  18. 18
  19. 19
  20. 20
  21. 21
  22. 22
  23. 23
  24. 24
  25. 25
  26. 26
  27. 27
  28. 28
  29. 29
  30. 30
  31. 31
  32. 32
  33. 33
  34. 34
  35. 35
  36. 36
  37. 37
  38. 38
  39. 39
  40. 40
  41. 41
  42. 42
  43. 43
  44. 44
  45. 45
  46. 46
  47. 47
  48. 48
  49. 49
  50. 50
  51. 51
  52. 52
  53. 53
  54. 54
  55. 55
  56. 56
  57. 57
  58. 58
  59. 59
  60. 60
  61. 61
  62. 62
  63. 63
  64. 64
  65. 65
  66. 66
  67. 67
  68. 68
  69. 69

31522
¶My glass shall not persuade me I am old,
¶So long as youth and thou are of one date;
¶But when in thee time's furrows I behold,
¶Then look I death my days should expiate.
320For all that beauty that doth cover thee
¶Is but the seemly raiment of my heart,
¶Which in thy breast doth live, as thine in me;
¶How can I then be elder than thou art?
¶Oh, therefore love be of thyself so wary,
325As I not for myself, but for thee will,
¶Bearing thy heart, which I will keep so chary
¶As tender nurse her babe from faring ill.
¶_Presume not on thy heart when mine is slain;
¶_Thou gav'st me thine not to give back again.

33023
¶As an unperfect actor on the stage,
¶Who with his fear is put besides his part;
¶Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage,
¶Whose strength's abundance weakens his own heart;
335So I, for fear of trust, forget to say
¶The perfect ceremony of love's right,
¶And in mine own love's strength seem to decay,
¶O'ercharged with burden of mine own love's might:
¶Oh, let my books be then the eloquence,
340And dumb presagers of my speaking breast,
¶Who plead for love, and look for recompense,
¶More than that tongue that more hath more expressed.
¶_Oh, learn to read what silent love hath writ!
¶_To hear with eyes belongs to love's fine wit.

34524
¶Mine eye hath played the painter, and hath steeled
¶Thy beauty's form in table of my heart;
¶My body is the frame wherein 'tis held,
¶And perspective it is best painter's art;
350For through the painter must you see his skill,
¶To find where your true image pictured lies,
¶Which in my bosom's shop is hanging still,
¶That hath his windows glazèd with thine eyes:
¶Now see what good turns eyes for eyes have done:
355Mine eyes have drawn thy shape, and thine for me
¶Are windows to my breast, wherethrough the sun
¶Delights to peep, to gaze therein on thee;
¶_Yet eyes this cunning want to grace their art:
¶_They draw but what they see, know not the heart.

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