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Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 123

|CXXIII. |
|No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change: |
|Thy pyramids built up with newer might |
|To me are nothing novel, nothing strange; |
|They are but dressings of a former sight. |
|Our dates are brief, and therefore we admire |
|What thou dost foist upon us that is old, |
|And rather make them born to our desire |
|Than think that we before have heard them told. |
|Thy registers and thee I both defy, |
|Not wondering at the present nor the past, |
|For thy records and what we see doth lie, |
|Made more or less by thy continual haste. |
| This I do vow and this shall ever be; |
| I will be true, despite thy scythe and thee. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 124

|CXXIV. |
|If my dear love were but the child of state, |
|It might for Fortune's bastard be unfather'd' |
|As subject to Time's love or to Time's hate, |
|Weeds among weeds, or flowers with flowers |
|gather'd. |
|No, it was builded far from accident; |
|It suffers not in smiling pomp, nor falls |
|Under the blow of thralled discontent, |
|Whereto the inviting time our fashion calls: |
|It fears not policy, that heretic, |
|Which works on leases of short-number'd hours, |
|But all alone stands hugely politic, |
|That it nor grows with heat nor drowns with |
|showers. |
| To this I witness call the fools of time, |
| Which die for goodness, who have lived for |
|crime. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 125

|CXXV. |
|Were 't aught to me I bore the canopy, |
|With my extern the outward honouring, |
|Or laid great bases for eternity, |
|Which prove more short than waste or ruining? |
|Have I not seen dwellers on form and favour |
|Lose all, and more, by paying too much rent, |
|For compound sweet forgoing simple savour, |
|Pitiful thrivers, in their gazing spent? |
|No, let me be obsequious in thy heart, |
|And take thou my oblation, poor but free, |
|Which is not mix'd with seconds, knows no art, |
|But mutual render, only me for thee. |
| Hence, thou suborn'd informer! a true soul |
| When most impeach'd stands least in thy |
|control. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 126

|CXXVI. |
|O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power |
|Dost hold Time's fickle glass, his sickle, hour; |
|Who hast by waning grown, and therein show'st |
|Thy lovers withering as thy sweet self grow'st; |
|If Nature, sovereign mistress over wrack, |
|As thou goest onwards, still will pluck thee |
|back, |
|She keeps thee to this purpose, that her skill |
|May time disgrace and wretched minutes kill. |
|Yet fear her, O thou minion of her pleasure! |
|She may detain, but not still keep, her treasure:|
| |
| Her audit, though delay'd, answer'd must be, |
| And her quietus is to render thee. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 127

|CXXVII. |
|In the old age black was not counted fair, |
|Or if it were, it bore not beauty's name; |
|But now is black beauty's successive heir, |
|And beauty slander'd with a bastard shame: |
|For since each hand hath put on nature's power, |
|Fairing the foul with art's false borrow'd face, |
|Sweet beauty hath no name, no holy bower, |
|But is profaned, if not lives in disgrace. |
|Therefore my mistress' brows are raven black, |
|Her eyes so suited, and they mourners seem |
|At such who, not born fair, no beauty lack, |
|Slandering creation with a false esteem: |
| Yet so they mourn, becoming of their woe, |
| That every tongue says beauty should look so. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 128

|CXXVIII. |
|How oft, when thou, my music, music play'st, |
|Upon that blessed wood whose motion sounds |
|With thy sweet fingers, when thou gently sway'st |
|The wiry concord that mine ear confounds, |
|Do I envy those jacks that nimble leap |
|To kiss the tender inward of thy hand, |
|Whilst my poor lips, which should that harvest |
|reap, |
|At the wood's boldness by thee blushing stand! |
|To be so tickled, they would change their state |
|And situation with those dancing chips, |
|O'er whom thy fingers walk with gentle gait, |
|Making dead wood more blest than living lips. |
| Since saucy jacks so happy are in this, |
| Give them thy fingers, me thy lips to kiss. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 129

|CXXIX. |
|The expense of spirit in a waste of shame |
|Is lust in action; and till action, lust |
|Is perjured, murderous, bloody, full of blame, |
|Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust, |
|Enjoy'd no sooner but despised straight, |
|Past reason hunted, and no sooner had |
|Past reason hated, as a swallow'd bait |
|On purpose laid to make the taker mad; |
|Mad in pursuit and in possession so; |
|Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme; |
|A bliss in proof, and proved, a very woe; |
|Before, a joy proposed; behind, a dream. |
| All this the world well knows; yet none knows |
|well |
| To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell.|

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 130

|CXXX. |
|My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun; |
|Coral is far more red than her lips' red; |
|If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun; |
|If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head. |
|I have seen roses damask'd, red and white, |
|But no such roses see I in her cheeks; |
|And in some perfumes is there more delight |
|Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks. |
|I love to hear her speak, yet well I know |
|That music hath a far more pleasing sound; |
|I grant I never saw a goddess go; |
|My mistress, when she walks, treads on the |
|ground: |
| And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare |
| As any she belied with false compare. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

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