Sonnet 87
|LXXXVII. |
|Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing, |
|And like enough thou know'st thy estimate: |
|The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing; |
|My bonds in thee are all determinate. |
|For how do I hold thee but by thy granting? |
|And for that riches where is my deserving? |
|The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting, |
|And so my patent back again is swerving. |
|Thyself thou gavest, thy own worth then not |
|knowing, |
|Or me, to whom thou gavest it, else mistaking; |
|So thy great gift, upon misprision growing, |
|Comes home again, on better judgment making. |
| Thus have I had thee, as a dream doth flatter, |
| In sleep a king, but waking no such matter. |
Sonnets of William Shakespeare
Sonnet 88
|LXXXVIII. |
|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. |
|With mine own weakness being best acquainted, |
|Upon thy part I can set down a story |
|Of faults conceal'd, wherein I am attainted, |
|That thou in losing me shalt win much glory: |
|And I by this will be a gainer too; |
|For 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. |
Sonnets of William Shakespeare
Sonnet 89
|LXXXIX. |
|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 defence. |
|Thou 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 |
|Thy 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. |
Sonnets of William Shakespeare
Sonnet 90
|XC. |
|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: |
|Ah, do not, when my heart hath 'scoped this |
|sorrow, |
|Come in the rearward of a conquer'd 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, |
|When 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. |
Sonnets of William Shakespeare
Sonnet 91
|XCI. |
|Some glory in their birth, some in their skill, |
|Some in their wealth, some in their bodies' |
|force, |
|Some in their garments, though new-fangled ill, |
|Some in their hawks and hounds, some in their |
|horse; |
|And every humour hath his adjunct pleasure, |
|Wherein it finds a joy above the rest: |
|But these particulars are not my measure; |
|All these I better in one general best. |
|Thy love is better than high birth to me, |
|Richer than wealth, prouder than garments' cost, |
|Of more delight than hawks or horses be; |
|And having thee, of all men's pride I boast: |
| Wretched in this alone, that thou mayst take |
| All this away and me most wretched make. |
Sonnets of William Shakespeare
Sonnet 92
|XCII. |
|But do thy worst to steal thyself away, |
|For term of life thou art assured mine, |
|And life no longer than thy love will stay, |
|For it depends upon that love of thine. |
|Then need I not to fear the worst of wrongs, |
|When in the least of them my life hath end. |
|I see a better state to me belongs |
|Than that which on thy humour doth depend; |
|Thou canst not vex me with inconstant mind, |
|Since that my life on thy revolt doth lie. |
|O, what a happy title do I find, |
|Happy to have thy love, happy to die! |
| But what's so blessed-fair that fears no blot? |
| Thou mayst be false, and yet I know it not. |
Sonnets of William Shakespeare
Sonnet 93
|XCIII. |
|So shall I live, supposing thou art true, |
|Like a deceived husband; so love's face |
|May still seem love to me, though alter'd new; |
|Thy looks with me, thy heart in other place: |
|For there can live no hatred in thine eye, |
|Therefore in that I cannot know thy change. |
|In many's looks the false heart's history |
|Is writ in moods and frowns and wrinkles strange,|
| |
|But heaven in thy creation did decree |
|That in thy face sweet love should ever dwell; |
|Whate'er thy thoughts or thy heart's workings be,|
| |
|Thy looks should nothing thence but sweetness |
|tell. |
| How like Eve's apple doth thy beauty grow, |
| if thy sweet virtue answer not thy show! |
Sonnets of William Shakespeare
Sonnet 94
|XCIV. |
|They that have power to hurt and will do none, |
|That do not do the thing they most do show, |
|Who, moving others, are themselves as stone, |
|Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow, |
|They rightly do inherit heaven's graces |
|And husband nature's riches from expense; |
|They are the lords and owners of their faces, |
|Others but stewards of their excellence. |
|The summer's flower is to the summer sweet, |
|Though to itself it only live and die, |
|But if that flower with base infection meet, |
|The basest weed outbraves his dignity: |
| For sweetest things turn sourest by their |
|deeds; |
| Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds. |
Sonnets of William Shakespeare
Sonnet 95
|XCV. |
|How sweet and lovely dost thou make the shame |
|Which, like a canker in the fragrant rose, |
|Doth spot the beauty of thy budding name! |
|O, in what sweets dost thou thy sins enclose! |
|That tongue that tells the story of thy days, |
|Making lascivious comments on thy sport, |
|Cannot dispraise but in a kind of praise; |
|Naming thy name blesses an ill report. |
|O, what a mansion have those vices got |
|Which for their habitation chose out thee, |
|Where beauty's veil doth cover every blot, |
|And all things turn to fair that eyes can see! |
| Take heed, dear heart, of this large privilege;|
| |
| The hardest knife ill-used doth lose his edge. |
Sonnets of William Shakespeare
Sonnet 96
|XCVI. |
|Some say thy fault is youth, some wantonness; |
|Some say thy grace is youth and gentle sport; |
|Both grace and faults are loved of more and less;|
| |
|Thou makest faults graces that to thee resort. |
|As on the finger of a throned queen |
|The basest jewel will be well esteem'd, |
|So are those errors that in thee are seen |
|To truths translated and for true things deem'd. |
|How many lambs might the stem wolf betray, |
|If like a lamb he could his looks translate! |
|How many gazers mightst thou lead away, |
|If thou wouldst use the strength of all thy |
|state! |
| But do not so; I love thee in such sort |
| As, thou being mine, mine is thy good report. |
Sonnets of William Shakespeare
Sonnet 97
|XCVII. |
|How like a winter hath my absence been |
Страницы: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15
