English poem
Sonnet 125: Were't aught to me I bore the canopy
Were't aught to me I bore the canopy, With my extern the outward honouring, Or laid great bases for eternity, Which proves 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 suborned informer! a true soul When most impeach'd, stands least in thy control.
More by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet 121: 'Tis better to be vile than vile esteem'd
- Sonnet 122: Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brain
- Sonnet 123: No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change
- Sonnet 124: If my dear love were but the child of state
- Sonnet 126: O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power
- Sonnet 127: In the old age black was not counted fair
- Sonnet 128: How oft when thou, my music, music play'st
- Sonnet 129: The expense of spirit in a waste of shame