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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)

    THat time of yeeare thou maist in me behold,
    When yellow leaues, or none, or few doe hange
    Vpon those boughes which shake against the could,
    Bare rn'wd quiers, where late the sweet birds sang.
    1085In me thou seest the twi-light of such day,
    As after Sun-set fadeth in the West,
    Which by and by blacke night doth take away,
    Deaths second selfe that seals vp all in rest.
    In me thou seest the glowing of such fire,
    1090That on the ashes of his youth doth lye,
    As the death bed, whereon it must expire,
    Consum'd with that which it was nurrisht by.
    This thou perceu'st, which makes thy loue more strong,
    To loue that well, which thou must leaue ere long.
    BVt be contented when that fell arest,
    With out all bayle shall carry me away,
    My life hath in this line some interest,
    Which for memoriall still with thee shall stay.
    1100When thou reuewest this, thou doest reuew,
    The very part was consecrate to thee,
    The earth can haue but earth, which is his due,
    My spirit is thine the better part of me,
    So then thou hast but lost the dregs of life,
    1105The pray of wormes, my body being dead,
    The coward conquest of a wretches knife,
    To base of thee to be remembred,
    The worth of that, is that which it containes,
    And that is this, and this with thee remaines.
    SO are you to my thoughts as food to life,
    Or as sweet season'd shewers are to the ground;
    And for the peace of you I hold such strife,
    As twixt a miser and his wealth is found.
    1115Now proud as an inioyer, and anon
    Doubting the filching age will steale his treasure,
    Now counting best to be with you alone,
    Then betterd that the world may see my pleasure,
    Some-time all ful with feasting on your sight,
    1120And by and by cleane starued for a looke,
    Possessing or pursuing no delight
    Saue what is had, or must from you be tooke.
    Thus do I pine and surfet day by day,
    Or gluttoning on all, or all away,