|Why should he live, now Nature bankrupt is, |
|Beggar'd of blood to blush through lively veins? |
|For she hath no exchequer now but his, |
|And, proud of many, lives upon his gains. |
| O, him she stores, to show what wealth she had |
| In days long since, before these last so bad. |
| |
Sonnets of William Shakespeare
Sonnet 68
|LXVIII. |
|Thus is his cheek the map of days outworn, |
|When beauty lived and died as flowers do now, |
|Before the bastard signs of fair were born, |
|Or durst inhabit on a living brow; |
|Before the golden tresses of the dead, |
|The right of sepulchres, were shorn away, |
|To live a second life on second head; |
|Ere beauty's dead fleece made another gay: |
|In him those holy antique hours are seen, |
|Without all ornament, itself and true, |
|Making no summer of another's green, |
|Robbing no old to dress his beauty new; |
| And him as for a map doth Nature store, |
| To show false Art what beauty was of yore. |
Sonnets of William Shakespeare
Sonnet 69
|LXIX. |
|Those parts of thee that the world's eye doth |
|view |
|Want nothing that the thought of hearts can mend;|
| |
|All tongues, the voice of souls, give thee that |
|due, |
|Uttering bare truth, even so as foes commend. |
|Thy outward thus with outward praise is crown'd; |
|But those same tongues that give thee so thine |
|own |
|In other accents do this praise confound |
|By seeing farther than the eye hath shown. |
|They look into the beauty of thy mind, |
|And that, in guess, they measure by thy deeds; |
|Then, churls, their thoughts, although their eyes|
|were kind, |
|To thy fair flower add the rank smell of weeds: |
| But why thy odour matcheth not thy show, |
| The solve is this, that thou dost common grow. |
Sonnets of William Shakespeare
Sonnet 70
|LXX. |
|That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect, |
|For slander's mark was ever yet the fair; |
|The ornament of beauty is suspect, |
|A crow that flies in heaven's sweetest air. |
|So thou be good, slander doth but approve |
|Thy worth the greater, being woo'd of time; |
|For canker vice the sweetest buds doth love, |
|And thou present'st a pure unstained prime. |
|Thou hast pass'd by the ambush of young days, |
|Either not assail'd or victor being charged; |
|Yet this thy praise cannot be so thy praise, |
|To tie up envy evermore enlarged: |
| If some suspect of ill mask'd not thy show, |
| Then thou alone kingdoms of hearts shouldst |
|owe. |
|Sonnets of William Shakespeare |
|Sonnet 71 |
|LXXI. |
|No longer mourn for me when I am dead |
|Then you shall hear the surly sullen bell |
|Give warning to the world that I am fled |
|From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell: |
|Nay, if you read this line, remember not |
|The hand that writ it; for I love you so |
|That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot |
|If thinking on me then should make you woe. |
|O, if, I say, you look upon this verse |
|When I perhaps compounded am with clay, |
|Do not so much as my poor name rehearse. |
|But let your love even with my life decay, |
| Lest the wise world should look into your moan |
| And mock you with me after I am gone. |
| |
Sonnets of William Shakespeare
Sonnet 72
|LXXII. |
|O, lest the world should task you to recite |
|What merit lived in me, that you should love |
|After my death, dear love, forget me quite, |
|For you in me can nothing worthy prove; |
|Unless you would devise some virtuous lie, |
|To do more for me than mine own desert, |
|And hang more praise upon deceased I |
|Than niggard truth would willingly impart: |
|O, lest your true love may seem false in this, |
|That you for love speak well of me untrue, |
|My name be buried where my body is, |
|And live no more to shame nor me nor you. |
| For I am shamed by that which I bring forth, |
| And so should you, to love things nothing |
|worth. |
|Sonnets of William Shakespeare |
|Sonnet 73 |
|LXXIII. |
|That time of year thou mayst in me behold |
|When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang |
|Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, |
|Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. |
|In me thou seest the twilight of such day |
|As after sunset fadeth in the west, |
|Which by and by black night doth take away, |
|Death's second self, that seals up all in rest. |
|In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire |
|That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, |
|As the death-bed whereon it must expire |
|Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by. |
| This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong, |
| To love that well which thou must leave ere long. |
| |
Sonnets of William Shakespeare
Sonnet 74
|LXXIV. |
|But be contented: when that fell arrest |
|Without all bail shall carry me away, |
|My life hath in this line some interest, |
|Which for memorial still with thee shall stay. |
|When thou reviewest this, thou dost review |
|The very part was consecrate to thee: |
|The earth can have 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, |
|The prey of worms, my body being dead, |
|The coward conquest of a wretch's knife, |
|Too base of thee to be remembered. |
| The worth of that is that which it contains, |
| And that is this, and this with thee remains. |
Sonnets of William Shakespeare
Sonnet 75
|LXXV. |
|So are you to my thoughts as food to life, |
|Or as sweet-season'd showers are to the ground; |
|And for the peace of you I hold such strife |
|As 'twixt a miser and his wealth is found; |
|Now proud as an enjoyer and anon |
|Doubting the filching age will steal his |
|treasure, |
|Now counting best to be with you alone, |
|Then better'd that the world may see my pleasure;|
| |
|Sometime all full with feasting on your sight |
|And by and by clean starved for a look; |
|Possessing or pursuing no delight, |
|Save what is had or must from you be took. |
| Thus do I pine and surfeit day by day, |
| Or gluttoning on all, or all away. |
Sonnets of William Shakespeare
Sonnet 76
|LXXVI. |
|Why is my verse so barren of new pride, |
|So far from variation or quick change? |
|Why with the time do I not glance aside |
|To new-found methods and to compounds strange? |
|Why write I still all one, ever the same, |
|And keep invention in a noted weed, |
|That every word doth almost tell my name, |
|Showing their birth and where they did proceed? |
|O, know, sweet love, I always write of you, |
|And you and love are still my argument; |
|So all my best is dressing old words new, |
|Spending again what is already spent: |
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