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Sonnet 106

|CVI. |
|When in the chronicle of wasted time |
|I see descriptions of the fairest wights, |
|And beauty making beautiful old rhyme |
|In praise of ladies dead and lovely knights, |
|Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty's best, |
|Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow, |
|I see their antique pen would have express'd |
|Even such a beauty as you master now. |
|So all their praises are but prophecies |
|Of this our time, all you prefiguring; |
|And, for they look'd but with divining eyes, |
|They had not skill enough your worth to sing: |
| For we, which now behold these present days, |
| Had eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise.|

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 107

|CVII. |
|Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul |
|Of the wide world dreaming on things to come, |
|Can yet the lease of my true love control, |
|Supposed as forfeit to a confined doom. |
|The mortal moon hath her eclipse endured |
|And the sad augurs mock their own presage; |
|Incertainties now crown themselves assured |
|And peace proclaims olives of endless age. |
|Now with the drops of this most balmy time |
|My love looks fresh, and death to me subscribes, |
|Since, spite of him, I'll live in this poor |
|rhyme, |
|While he insults o'er dull and speechless tribes:|
| |
| And thou in this shalt find thy monument, |
| When tyrants' crests and tombs of brass are |
|spent. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 108

|CVIII. |
|What's in the brain that ink may character |
|Which hath not figured to thee my true spirit? |
|What's new to speak, what new to register, |
|That may express my love or thy dear merit? |
|Nothing, sweet boy; but yet, like prayers divine,|
| |
|I must, each day say o'er the very same, |
|Counting no old thing old, thou mine, I thine, |
|Even as when first I hallow'd thy fair name. |
|So that eternal love in love's fresh case |
|Weighs not the dust and injury of age, |
|Nor gives to necessary wrinkles place, |
|But makes antiquity for aye his page, |
| Finding the first conceit of love there bred |
| Where time and outward form would show it dead.|

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 109

|CIX. |
|O, never say that I was false of heart, |
|Though absence seem'd my flame to qualify. |
|As easy might I from myself depart |
|As 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. |
|Never believe, though in my nature reign'd |
|All frailties that besiege all kinds of blood, |
|That it could so preposterously be stain'd, |
|To leave for nothing all thy sum of good; |
| For nothing this wide universe I call, |
| Save thou, my rose; in it thou art my all. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 110

|CX. |
|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, |
|Made old offences of affections new; |
|Most true it is that I have look'd 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. |
|Now all is done, have 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, |
| Even to thy pure and most most loving breast. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 111

|CXI. |
|O, for my sake do you with Fortune chide, |
|The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds, |
|That did not better for my life provide |
|Than 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 renew'd; |
|Whilst, 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 |
| Even that your pity is enough to cure me. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 112

|CXII. |
|Your love and pity doth the impression fill |
|Which vulgar scandal stamp'd upon my brow; |
|For what care I who calls me well or ill, |
|So you o'er-green my bad, my good allow? |
|You are my all the world, and I must strive |
|To know my shames and praises from your tongue: |
|None else to me, nor I to none alive, |
|That my steel'd sense or changes right or wrong. |
|In so profound abysm I throw all care |
|Of others' voices, that my adder's sense |
|To critic and to flatterer stopped are. |
|Mark how with my neglect I do dispense: |
| You are so strongly in my purpose bred |
| That all the world besides methinks are dead. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 113

|CXIII. |
|Since I left you, mine eye is in my mind; |
|And that which governs me to go about |
|Doth part his function and is partly blind, |
|Seems seeing, but effectually is out; |
|For it no form delivers to the heart |
|Of bird of flower, or shape, which it doth latch:|
| |
|Of his quick objects hath the mind no part, |
|Nor his own vision holds what it doth catch: |
|For if it see the rudest or gentlest sight, |
|The most sweet favour or deformed'st creature, |
|The mountain or the sea, the day or night, |
|The crow or dove, it shapes them to your feature:|
| |
| Incapable of more, replete with you, |
| My most true mind thus makes mine eye untrue. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 114

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