The Sonnets XCI - Some glory in their birth, some in their skill

Some glory in their birth, some in their skill,
Some in their wealth, some in their bodys force,
Some in their garments though new-fangled ill;
Some in their hawks and hounds, some in their horse;
And every humour hath his adjunct pleasure,
Wherein it finds a joy above the rest:
But these particulars are not my measure,
All these I better in one general best.
Thy love is better than high birth to me,
Richer than wealth, prouder than garments costs,
Of more delight than hawks and horses be;
And having thee, of all mens pride I boast:
Wretched in this alone, that thou mayst take
All this away, and me most wretched make.

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 XXXVI - Let me confess that we two must be twain

William Shakespeare, Simple Poetry

The Sonnets CXLVI - Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth

William Shakespeare, Simple Poetry

The Sonnets LXXIV - But be contented: when that fell arrest

William Shakespeare, Simple Poetry

The Sonnets CII - My love is strengthend, though more weak in seeming

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 LXXXIV - Who is it that says most, which can say more

Who is it that says most, which can say more,
Than this rich praise, that you alone, are you?
In whose confine immured is the store
Which should example where your equal grew.
Lean penury within that pen doth dwell
That to his subject lends not some small glory;
But he that writes of you, if he can tell
That you are you, so dignifies his story,
Let him but copy what in you is writ,
Not making worse what nature made so clear,
And such a counterpart shall fame his wit,
Making his style admired every where.
You to your beauteous blessings add a curse,
Being fond on praise, which makes your praises worse.

William Shakespeare

The Sonnets XXXVII - As a decrepit father takes delight

As a decrepit father takes delight
To see his active child do deeds of youth,
So I, made lame by Fortunes dearest spite,
Take all my comfort of thy worth and truth;
For whether beauty, birth, or wealth, or wit,
Or any of these all, or all, or more,
Entitled in thy parts, do crowned sit,
I make my love engrafted, to this store:
So then I am not lame, poor, nor despisd,
Whilst that this shadow doth such substance give
That I in thy abundance am sufficd,
And by a part of all thy glory live.
Look what is best, that best I wish in thee:
This wish I have; then ten times happy me!

William Shakespeare

The Sonnets XCVI - Some say thy fault is youth, some wantonness

Some say thy fault is youth, some wantonness;
Some say thy grace is youth and gentle sport;
Both grace and faults are lovd of more and less:
Thou makst faults graces that to thee resort.
As on the finger of a throned queen
The basest jewel will be well esteemd,
So are those errors that in thee are seen
To truths translated, and for true things deemd.
How many lambs might the stern wolf betray,
If like a lamb he could his looks translate!
How many gazers mightst thou lead away,
If thou wouldst use the strength of all thy state!
But do not so; I love thee in such sort,
As, thou being mine, mine is thy good report.

William Shakespeare

The Sonnets XXXIX - O! how thy worth with manners may I sing

O! how thy worth with manners may I sing,
When thou art all the better part of me?
What can mine own praise to mine own self bring?
And what ist but mine own when I praise thee?
Even for this, let us divided live,
And our dear love lose name of single one,
That by this separation I may give
That due to thee which thou deservst alone.
O absence! what a torment wouldst thou prove,
Were it not thy sour leisure gave sweet leave,
To entertain the time with thoughts of love,
Which time and thoughts so sweetly doth deceive,
And that thou teachest how to make one twain,
By praising him here who doth hence remain.

William Shakespeare

The Sonnets LII - So am I as the rich, whose blessed key

So am I as the rich, whose blessed key,
Can bring him to his sweet up-locked treasure,
The which he will not every hour survey,
For blunting the fine point of seldom pleasure.
Therefore are feasts so solemn and so rare,
Since, seldom coming in that long year set,
Like stones of worth they thinly placed are,
Or captain jewels in the carcanet.
So is the time that keeps you as my chest,
Or as the wardrobe which the robe doth hide,
To make some special instant special-blest,
By new unfolding his imprisond pride.
Blessed are you whose worthiness gives scope,
Being had, to triumph; being lacked, to hope.

William Shakespeare

The Sonnets XXV - Let those who are in favour with their stars

Let those who are in favour with their stars
Of public honour and proud titles boast,
Whilst I, whom fortune of such triumph bars
Unlookd for joy in that I honour most.
Great princes favourites their fair leaves spread
But as the marigold at the suns eye,
And in themselves their pride lies buried,
For at a frown they in their glory die.
The painful warrior famoused for fight,
After a thousand victories once foild,
Is from the book of honour razed quite,
And all the rest forgot for which he toild:
Then happy I, that love and am belovd,
Where I may not remove nor be removd.

William Shakespeare