The Sonnets XLI - Those pretty wrongs that liberty commits

Those pretty wrongs that liberty commits,
When I am sometime absent from thy heart,
Thy beauty, and thy years full well befits,
For still temptation follows where thou art.
Gentle thou art, and therefore to be won,
Beauteous thou art, therefore to be assaild;
And when a woman woos, what womans son
Will sourly leave her till he have prevaild?
Ay me! but yet thou mightst my seat forbear,
And chide thy beauty and thy straying youth,
Who lead thee in their riot even there
Where thou art forced to break a twofold truth:
Hers by thy beauty tempting her to thee,
Thine by thy beauty being false to 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 C - Where art thou Muse that thou forgetst so long

William Shakespeare, Simple Poetry

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

William Shakespeare, Simple Poetry

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

William Shakespeare, Simple Poetry

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

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 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

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 XCII - But do thy worst to steal thyself away

But do thy worst to steal thyself away,
For term of life thou art assured mine;
And life no longer than thy love will stay,
For it depends upon that love of thine.
Then need I not to fear the worst of wrongs,
When in the least of them my life hath end.
I see a better state to me belongs
Than that which on thy humour doth depend:
Thou canst not vex me with inconstant mind,
Since that my life on thy revolt doth lie.
O! what a happy title do I find,
Happy to have thy love, happy to die!
But whats so blessed-fair that fears no blot?
Thou mayst be false, and yet I know it not.

William Shakespeare

The Sonnets XXXIV - Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day

Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day,
And make me travel forth without my cloak,
To let base clouds oertake me in my way,
Hiding thy bravery in their rotten smoke?
Tis not enough that through the cloud thou break,
To dry the rain on my storm-beaten face,
For no man well of such a salve can speak,
That heals the wound, and cures not the disgrace:
Nor can thy shame give physic to my grief;
Though thou repent, yet I have still the loss:
The offenders sorrow lends but weak relief
To him that bears the strong offences cross.
Ah! but those tears are pearl which thy love sheds,
And they are rich and ransom all ill deeds.

William Shakespeare

The Sonnets LXX - That thou art blamd shall not be thy defect

That thou art blamd shall not be thy defect,
For slanders mark was ever yet the fair;
The ornament of beauty is suspect,
A crow that flies in heavens sweetest air.
So thou be good, slander doth but approve
Thy worth the greater being wood of time;
For canker vice the sweetest buds doth love,
And thou presentst a pure unstained prime.
Thou hast passed by the ambush of young days
Either not assaild, or victor being chargd;
Yet this thy praise cannot be so thy praise,
To tie up envy, evermore enlargd,
If some suspect of ill maskd not thy show,
Then thou alone kingdoms of hearts shouldst owe.

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