Internet Shakespeare Editions

About this text

  • Title: Shake-speares Sonnets (Quarto 1, 1609)
  • Editors: Hardy M. Cook, Ian Lancashire

  • Copyright Hardy M. Cook and Ian Lancashire. This text may be freely used for educational, non-profit purposes; for all other uses contact the Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editors: Hardy M. Cook, Ian Lancashire
    Peer Reviewed

    Shake-speares Sonnets (Quarto 1, 1609)



    LOue is my sinne, and thy deare vertue hate,
    Hate of my sinne, grounded on sinfull louing,
    O but with mine, compare thou thine owne state ,
    2120And thou shalt finde it merrits not reproouing,
    Or if it do , not from those lips of thine,
    That haue prophan'd their scarlet ornaments,
    And seald false bonds of loue as oft as mine,
    Robd others beds reuenues of their rents.
    2125Be it lawfull I loue thee as thou lou'st those,
    Whome thine eyes wooe as mine importune thee,
    Roote pittie in thy heart that when it growes,
    Thy pitty may deserue to pittied bee.
    If thou doost seeke to haue what thou doost hide,
    2130By selfe example mai'st thou be denide.


    LOe as a carefull huswife runnes to catch,
    One of her fethered creatures broake away,
    Sets downe her babe and makes all swift dispatch
    2135In pursuit of the thing she would haue stay:
    Whilst her neglected child holds her in chace,
    Cries to catch her whose busie care is bent,
    To follow that which flies before her face:
    Not prizing her poore infants discontent;
    2140So runst thou after that which flies from thee,
    Whilst I thy babe chace thee a farre behind,
    But if thou catch thy hope turne back to me:
    And play the mothers part kisse me, be kind.
    So will I pray that thou maist haue thy Will,
    2145If thou turne back and my loude crying still.


    TWo loues I haue of comfort and dispaire,
    Which like two spirits do sugiest me still,
    The better angell is a man right faire:
    2150The worser spirit a woman collour'd il.
    To win me soone to hell my femall euill,