Not Peer Reviewed
- Edition: The Sonnets
The Sonnets (Modern)
- Texts of this edition
- Facsimiles
126085
1261My tongue-tied Muse in manners holds her still,
1262While comments of your praise richly compiled
1263Reserve thy character with golden quill,
1264And precious phrase by all the Muses filed.
1265I think good thoughts, whilst other write good words,
1266And like unlettered clerk still cry "Amen"
1267To every hymn that able spirit affords
1268In polished form of well refinèd pen.
1269Hearing you praised, I say "'Tis so, 'tis true,"
1270And to the most of praise add something more;
1271But that is in my thought, whose love to you,
1272Though words come hindmost, holds his rank before;
1273 Then others for the breath of words respect,
1274 Me for my dumb thoughts, speaking in effect.
127586
1276Was it the proud full sail of his great verse,
1277Bound for the prize of all-too-precious you,
1278That did my ripe thoughts in my brain inhearse,
1279Making their tomb the womb wherein they grew?
1280Was it his spirit, by spirits taught to write
1281Above a mortal pitch, that struck me dead?
1282No, neither he, nor his compeers by night
1283Giving him aid, my verse astonishèd.
1284He, nor that affable familiar ghost
1285Which nightly gulls him with intelligence,
1286As victors of my silence cannot boast;
1287I was not sick of any fear from thence.
1288 But when your countenance filled up his line,
1289 Then lacked I matter, that enfeebled mine.
129087
1291Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing,
1292And like enough thou know'st thy estimate;
1293The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing;
1294My bonds in thee are all determinate.
1295For how do I hold thee but by thy granting,
1296And for that riches where is my deserving?
1297The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting,
1298And so my patent back again is swerving.
1299Thyself thou gav'st, thy own worth then not knowing,
1300Or me, to whom thou gav'st it, else mistaking;
1301So thy great gift upon misprision growing
1302Comes home again, on better judgment making.
1303 Thus have I had thee as a dream doth flatter,
1304 In sleep a king, but waking no such matter.