The Sonnets CXIX - What potions have I drunk of Siren tears

What potions have I drunk of Siren tears,
Distilld from limbecks foul as hell within,
Applying fears to hopes, and hopes to fears,
Still losing when I saw myself to win!
What wretched errors hath my heart committed,
Whilst it hath thought itself so blessed never!
How have mine eyes out of their spheres been fitted,
In the distraction of this madding fever!
O benefit of ill! now I find true
That better is, by evil still made better;
And ruind love, when it is built anew,
Grows fairer than at first, more strong, far greater.
So I return rebukd to my content,
And gain by ill thrice more than I have spent.

William Shakespeare

William Shakespeare was an English playwright, poet, and actor, regarded as the greatest writer in the English language and the world's greatest dramatist. Known as the 'Bard of Avon,' his extant works include approximately 39 plays, 154 sonnets, two long narrative poems, and a few other verses. His plays have been translated into every major living language and are performed more often than those of any other playwright.

William Shakespeare

The Sonnets VIII - Music to hear, why hearst thou music sadly?

William Shakespeare, Simple Poetry

The Sonnets CXII - Your love and pity doth the impression fill

William Shakespeare, Simple Poetry

The Sonnets LXXVII - Thy glass will show thee how thy beauties wear

William Shakespeare, Simple Poetry

The Sonnets LXXV - So are you to my thoughts as food to life

William Shakespeare, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

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The Sonnets CX - Alas! tis true, I have gone here and there

Alas! tis true, I have gone here and there,
And made my self a motley to the view,
Gord mine own thoughts, sold cheap what is most dear,
Made old offences of affections new;
Most true it is, that I have lookd on truth
Askance and strangely; but, by all above,
These blenches gave my heart another youth,
And worse essays provd thee my best of love.
Now all is done, save 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 confind.
Then give me welcome, next my heaven the best,
Even to thy pure and most most loving breast.

William Shakespeare

The Sonnets CXIV - Or whether doth my mind, being crownd with you

Or whether doth my mind, being crownd with you,
Drink up the monarchs plague, this flattery?
Or whether shall I say, mine eye saith true,
And that your love taught it this alchemy,
To make of monsters and things indigest
Such cherubins as your sweet self resemble,
Creating every bad a perfect best,
As fast as objects to his beams assemble?
O! tis the first, tis flattery in my seeing,
And my great mind most kingly drinks it up:
Mine eye well knows what with his gust is greeing,
And to his palate doth prepare the cup:
If it be poisond, tis the lesser sin
That mine eye loves it and doth first begin.

William Shakespeare

The Sonnets CXI - O! for my sake do you with Fortune chide

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 subdud
To what it works in, like the dyers hand:
Pity me, then, and wish I were renewd;
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.

William Shakespeare

The Sonnets CXII - Your love and pity doth the impression fill

Your love and pity doth the impression fill,
Which vulgar scandal stampd upon my brow;
For what care I who calls me well or ill,
So you oer-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 steeld sense or changes right or wrong.
In so profound abysm I throw all care
Of others voices, that my adders 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.

William Shakespeare

The Sonnets XXXV - No more be grievd at that which thou hast done

No more be grievd at that which thou hast done:
Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud:
Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun,
And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud.
All men make faults, and even I in this,
Authorizing thy trespass with compare,
Myself corrupting, salving thy amiss,
Excusing thy sins more than thy sins are;
For to thy sensual fault I bring in sense,
Thy adverse party is thy advocate,
And gainst myself a lawful plea commence:
Such civil war is in my love and hate,
That I an accessary needs must be,
To that sweet thief which sourly robs from me.

William Shakespeare

The Sonnets CXLIV - Two loves I have of comfort and despair

Two loves I have of comfort and despair,
Which like two spirits do suggest me still:
The better angel is a man right fair,
The worser spirit a woman colourd ill.
To win me soon to hell, my female evil,
Tempteth my better angel from my side,
And would corrupt my saint to be a devil,
Wooing his purity with her foul pride.
And whether that my angel be turnd fiend,
Suspect I may, yet not directly tell;
But being both from me, both to each friend,
I guess one angel in anothers hell:
Yet this shall I neer know, but live in doubt,
Till my bad angel fire my good one out.

William Shakespeare