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

135091
¶Some glory in their birth, some in their skill,
¶Some in their wealth, some in their body's force,
¶Some in their garments, though new-fangled ill,
¶Some in their hawks and hounds, some in their horse;
1355And every humor 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,
1360Richer 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.

136592
¶But do thy worst to steal thyself away,
¶For term of life thou art assurèd mine,
¶And life no longer than thy love will stay,
¶For it depends upon that love of thine.
1370Then 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 humor doth depend.
¶Thou canst not vex me with inconstant mind,
1375Since that my life on thy revolt doth lie.
¶Oh, 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.

138093
¶So shall I live, supposing thou art true,
¶Like a deceived husband; so love's face
¶May still seem love to me, though altered new,
¶Thy looks with me, thy heart in other place.
1385For 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
1390That 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.

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