Internet Shakespeare Editions

About this text

  • Title: The Sonnets (Modern)
  • Editor: Michael Best

  • Copyright Internet Shakespeare Editions. This text may be freely used for educational, non-proift purposes; for all other uses contact the Coordinating Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editor: Michael Best
    Not Peer Reviewed

    The Sonnets (Modern)

    130588
    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.
    1310With mine own weakness being best acquainted,
    Upon thy part I can set down a story
    Of faults concealed, wherein I am attainted,
    That thou, in losing me, shall win much glory;
    And I by this will be a gainer too,
    1315For 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.
    132089
    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 defense.
    1325Thou 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
    1330Thy 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.
    133590
    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.
    1340Ah, do not, when my heart hath 'scaped this sorrow,
    Come in the rearward of a conquered 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,
    1345When 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.