Sonnet CXXXVI.

“If thy soul check thee that I come so near”

IF thy soul check thee that I come so near   
Swear to thy blind soul that I was thy Will,   
And will, thy soul knows, is admitted there;   
Thus far for love, my love-suit, sweet, fulfil.   
Will will fulfil the treasure of thy love,            5
Ay, fill it full with wills, and my will one.   
In things of great receipt with ease we prove   
Among a number one is reckon’d none:   
Then in the number let me pass untold,   
Though in thy stores’ account I one must be;     10
For nothing hold me, so it please thee hold   
That nothing me, a something sweet to thee:   
  Make but my name thy love, and love that still,   
  And then thou lov’st me,—for my name is Will.   

Sonnet CXXXVII.

“Thou blind fool, Love, what dost thou to mine eyes”

THOU blind fool, Love, what dost thou to mine eyes   
That they behold, and see not what they see?   
They know what beauty is, see where it lies,   
Yet what the best is take the worst to be.   
If eyes, corrupt by over-partial looks,            5
Be anchor’d in the bay where all men ride,   
Why of eyes’ falsehood hast thou forged hooks,   
Whereto the judgment of my heart is tied?   
Why should my heart think that a several plot   
Which my heart knows the wide world’s common place?     10
Or mine eyes, seeing this, say this is not,   
To put fair truth upon so foul a face?   
  In things right true my heart and eyes have err’d,   
  And to this false plague are they now transferr’d.   

Sonnet CXXXVIII.

“When my love swears that she is made of truth”

WHEN my love swears that she is made of truth   
I do believe her, though I know she lies,   
That she might think me some untutor’d youth,   
Unlearned in the world’s false subtleties.   
Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,            5
Although she knows my days are past the best,   
Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue:   
On both sides thus is simple truth supprest.   
But wherefore says she not she is unjust?   
And wherefore say not I that I am old?     10
O! love’s best habit is in seeming trust,   
And age in love loves not to have years told:   
  Therefore I lie with her, and she with me,   
  And in our faults by lies we flatter’d be.   

Sonnet 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 lovest elsewhere; but in my sight,            5
Dear heart, forbear to glance thine eye aside:   
What need’st thou wound with cunning, when thy might   
Is more than my o’erpress’d defence can bide?   
Let me excuse thee: ah! my love well knows   
Her pretty looks have been my enemies;     10
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.   

Sonnet CXL.

“Be wise as thou art cruel; do not press”

BE wise as thou art cruel; do not press   
My tongue-tied patience with too much disdain;   
Lest sorrow lend me words, and words express   
The manner of my pity-wanting pain.   
If I might teach thee wit, better it were,            5
Though not to love, yet, love, to tell me so;—   
As testy sick men, when their deaths be near,   
No news but health from their physicians know;—   
For, if I should despair, I should grow mad,   
And in my madness might speak ill of thee:     10
Now this ill-wresting world is grown so bad,   
Mad slanderers by mad ears believed be.   
  That I may not be so, nor thou belied,   
  Bear thine eyes straight, though thy proud heart go wide.   

Sonnet CXLI.

“In faith I do not love thee with mine eyes”

IN faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes   
For they in thee a thousand errors note;   
But ’tis my heart that loves what they despise,   
Who, in despite of view, is pleas’d to dote.   
Nor are mine ears with thy tongue’s tune delighted;            5
Nor tender feeling, to base touches prone,   
Nor taste, nor smell desire to be invited   
To any sensual feast with thee alone:   
But my five wits nor my five senses can   
Dissuade one foolish heart from serving thee,     10
Who leaves unsway’d the likeness of a man,   
Thy proud heart’s slave and vassal wretch to be:   
  Only my plague thus far I count my gain,   
  That she that makes me sin awards me pain.   

Sonnet CXLII.

“Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate”

LOVE is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate   
Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving:   
O! but with mine compare thou thine own state,   
And thou shalt find it merits not reproving;   
Or, if it do, not from those lips of thine,            5
That have profan’d their scarlet ornaments   
And seal’d false bonds of love as oft as mine,   
Robb’d others’ beds’ revenues of their rents.   
Be it lawful I love thee, as thou lov’st those   
Whom thine eyes woo as mine importune thee:     10
Root pity in thy heart, that when it grows,   
Thy pity may deserve to pitied be.   
  If thou dost seek to have what thou dost hide,   
  By self-example mayst thou be denied!   

Sonnet CXLIII.

“Lo, as a careful housewife runs to catch”

LO, as a careful housewife runs to catch   
One of her feather’d creatures broke away,   
Sets down her babe, and makes all quick dispatch   
In pursuit of the thing she would have stay;   
Whilst her neglected child holds her in chase,            5
Cries to catch her whose busy care is bent   
To follow that which flies before her face,   
Not prizing her poor infant’s discontent:   
So runn’st thou after that which flies from thee,   
Whilst I thy babe chase thee afar behind;     10
But if thou catch thy hope, turn back to me,   
And play the mother’s part, kiss me, be kind;   
  So will I pray that thou mayst have thy Will,   
  If thou turn back and my loud crying still.   

Sonnet 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, colour’d ill.   
To win me soon to hell, my female evil            5
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 turn’d fiend   
Suspect I may, yet not directly tell;     10
But being both from me, both to each friend,   
I guess one angel in another’s hell:   
  Yet this shall I ne’er know, but live in doubt,   
  Till my bad angel fire my good one out.   

Sonnet CXLV.

“Those lips that Love’s own hand did make”

THOSE lips that Love’s own hand did make   
Breath’d forth the sound that said ‘I hate,’   
To me that languish’d for her sake:   
But when she saw my woeful state,   
Straight in her heart did mercy come,            5
Chiding that tongue that ever sweet   
Was us’d in giving gentle doom;   
And taught it thus anew to greet;   
‘I hate,’ she alter’d with an end,   
That follow’d it as gentle day     10
Doth follow night, who like a fiend   
From heaven to hell is flown away.   
  ‘I hate’ from hate away she threw,   
  And sav’d my life, saying—‘Not you.’