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CXII.

Your love and pity doth the impreffion fill
Which vulgar scandal stamp'd upon my brow;
For what care I who calls me well or ill,
So you o'er-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 fteel'd sense or changes right or wrong. In fo profound abysm I throw all care

Of others' voices, that my adder's sense
To critic and to flatterer ftopped are.
Mark how with my neglect I do difpenfe:

You are fo ftrongly in my purpose bred

That all the world befides methinks they're dead.

e;

CXIII.

Since I left you mine eye is in my mind,
And that which governs me to go about
Doth part his function and is partly blind,
Seems seeing, but effectually is out;

For it no form delivers to the heart

Of bird, of flower, or shape, which it doth latch:
Of his quick objects hath the mind no part,

Nor his own vision holds what it doth catch;

For if it fee the rudeft or gentlest sight,

The most sweet favour or deformed'ft creature,
The mountain or the fea, the day or night,

The crow or dove, it shapes them to your feature:
Incapable of more, replete with you,

My most true mind thus maketh mine untrue.

CXIV.

Or whether doth my mind, being crown'd with you,
Drink up
the monarch's plague, this flattery?
Or whether shall I fay, mine eye faith 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 guft is 'greeing,
And to his palate doth prepare the cup:

If it be poison'd, 'tis the leffer fin

That mine eye loves it and doth first begin.

CXV.

Those lines that I before have writ do lie,
Even those that said I could not love you

dearer :

Yet then my judgement knew no reason why
My moft full flame should afterwards burn clearer.
But reckoning Time, whose million'd accidents

Creep in 'twixt vows, and change decrees of kings,
Tan facred beauty, blunt the sharp'ft intents,
Divert ftrong minds to the course of altering things;
Alas, why, fearing of Time's tyranny,

Might I not then say 'Now I love you best,'
When I was certain o'er incertainty,
Crowning the present, doubting of the reft?
Love is a babe; then might I not say so,

To give full growth to that which still doth grow?

CXVI.

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove:

O, nol it is an ever-fixed mark,

That looks on tempests and is never shaken;

It is the star to every wandering bark,

[taken.

Whofe worth's unknown, although his height be
Love's not Time's fool, though rofy lips and cheeks
Within his bending fickle's compass come;

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
X

But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

If this be error and upon me proved,

I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

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