Internet Shakespeare Editions

Toolbox




Jump to line
Through Line Number
Help on texts
About this text
Print this page

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    Not Peer Reviewed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)

    109
    O never say that I was false of heart,
    Though absence seemed my flame to qualify;
    As easy might I from myself depart
    1625As 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;
    1630Never believe, though in my nature reigned
    All frailties that besiege all kinds of blood,
    That it could so preposterously be stained,
    To leave for nothing all thy sum of good:
    For nothing this wide universe I call,
    1635 Save thou, my rose; in it thou art my all.
    110
    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,
    1640Made old offences of affections new.
    Most true it is that I have looked 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.
    1645Now all is done, save 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,
    1650 Even to thy pure and most most loving breast.
    111
    Oh, for my sake do you with Fortune chide,
    The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds,
    That did not better for my life provide
    1655Than 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 renewed,
    1660Whilst 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,
    1665 Even that your pity is enough to cure me.
    About
    Contact us
    Content quality
    Site guide
    © Internet Shakespeare Editions
    Copyright details
    Privacy policy
    This site is supported by:
    University of Victoria
    Friends of the ISE
    SSHRC