The Sonnets CXX - That you were once unkind befriends me now

That you were once unkind befriends me now,
And for that sorrow, which I then did feel,
Needs must I under my transgression bow,
Unless my nerves were brass or hammerd steel.
For if you were by my unkindness shaken,
As I by yours, youve passd a hell of time;
And I, a tyrant, have no leisure taken
To weigh how once I sufferd in your crime.
O! that our night of woe might have rememberd
My deepest sense, how hard true sorrow hits,
And soon to you, as you to me, then tenderd
The humble salve, which wounded bosoms fits!
But that your trespass now becomes a fee;
Mine ransoms yours, and yours must ransom me.

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 LXXVI - Why is my verse so barren of new pride

William Shakespeare, Simple Poetry

The Sonnets XII - When I do count the clock that tells the time

William Shakespeare, Simple Poetry

The Sonnets V - Those hours, that with gentle work did frame

William Shakespeare, Simple Poetry

The Sonnets LI - Thus can my love excuse the slow offence

William Shakespeare, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

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 XC - Then hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now

Then hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now;
Now, while the world is bent my deeds to cross,
Join with the spite of fortune, make me bow,
And do not drop in for an after-loss:
Ah! do not, when my heart hath scapd this sorrow,
Come in the rearward of a conquerd woe;
Give not a windy night a rainy morrow,
To linger out a purposd overthrow.
If thou wilt leave me, do not leave me last,
When other petty griefs have done their spite,
But in the onset come: so shall I taste
At first the very worst of fortunes might;
And other strains of woe, which now seem woe,
Compard with loss of thee, will not seem so.

William Shakespeare

The Sonnets CXXXIII - Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan

Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan
For that deep wound it gives my friend and me!
Ist not enough to torture me alone,
But slave to slavery my sweetst friend must be?
Me from myself thy cruel eye hath taken,
And my next self thou harder hast engrossd:
Of him, myself, and thee I am forsaken;
A torment thrice three-fold thus to be crossd:
Prison my heart in thy steel bosoms ward,
But then my friends heart let my poor heart bail;
Whoeer keeps me, let my heart be his guard;
Thou canst not then use rigour in my jail:
And yet thou wilt; for I, being pent in thee,
Perforce am thine, and all that is in me.

William Shakespeare

The Sonnets XXVIII - How can I then return in happy plight

How can I then return in happy plight,
That am debarred the benefit of rest?
When days oppression is not easd by night,
But day by night and night by day oppressd,
And each, though enemies to eithers reign,
Do in consent shake hands to torture me,
The one by toil, the other to complain
How far I toil, still farther off from thee.
I tell the day, to please him thou art bright,
And dost him grace when clouds do blot the heaven:
So flatter I the swart-complexiond night,
When sparkling stars twire not thou gildst the even.
But day doth daily draw my sorrows longer,
And night doth nightly make griefs length seem stronger.

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 CXXXIX - O! call not me to justify the wrong

O! call not me to justify the wrong
That thy unkindness lays upon my heart;
Wound me not with thine eye, but with thy tongue:
Use power with power, and slay me not by art,
Tell me thou lovst elsewhere; but in my sight,
Dear heart, forbear to glance thine eye aside:
What needst thou wound with cunning, when thy might
Is more than my oerpressd defence can bide?
Let me excuse thee: ah! my love well knows
Her pretty looks have been mine enemies;
And therefore from my face she turns my foes,
That they elsewhere might dart their injuries:
Yet do not so; but since I am near slain,
Kill me outright with looks, and rid my pain.

William Shakespeare