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Sonnet 5

|V. |
|Those hours, that with gentle work did frame |
|The lovely gaze where every eye doth dwell, |
|Will play the tyrants to the very same |
|And that unfair which fairly doth excel: |
|For never-resting time leads summer on |
|To hideous winter and confounds him there; |
|Sap cheque'd with frost and lusty leaves quite |
|gone, |
|Beauty o'ersnow'd and bareness every where: |
|Then, were not summer's distillation left, |
|A liquid prisoner pent in walls of glass, |
|Beauty's effect with beauty were bereft, |
|Nor it nor no remembrance what it was: |
| But flowers distill'd though they with winter |
|meet, |
| Leese but their show; their substance still |
|lives sweet. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 6

|VI. |
|Then let not winter's ragged hand deface |
|In thee thy summer, ere thou be distill'd: |
|Make sweet some vial; treasure thou some place |
|With beauty's treasure, ere it be self-kill'd. |
|That use is not forbidden usury, |
|Which happies those that pay the willing loan; |
|That's for thyself to breed another thee, |
|Or ten times happier, be it ten for one; |
|Ten times thyself were happier than thou art, |
|If ten of thine ten times refigured thee: |
|Then what could death do, if thou shouldst |
|depart, |
|Leaving thee living in posterity? |
| Be not self-will'd, for thou art much too fair |
| To be death's conquest and make worms thine |
|heir. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 7

|VII. |
|Lo! in the orient when the gracious light |
|Lifts up his burning head, each under eye |
|Doth homage to his new-appearing sight, |
|Serving with looks his sacred majesty; |
|And having climb'd the steep-up heavenly hill, |
|Resembling strong youth in his middle age, |
|yet mortal looks adore his beauty still, |
|Attending on his golden pilgrimage; |
|But when from highmost pitch, with weary car, |
|Like feeble age, he reeleth from the day, |
|The eyes, 'fore duteous, now converted are |
|From his low tract and look another way: |
| So thou, thyself out-going in thy noon, |
| Unlook'd on diest, unless thou get a son. |

|Sonnets of William Shakespeare |
|Sonnet 8 |
|VIII. |
|Music to hear, why hear'st thou music sadly? |
|Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy. |
|Why lovest thou that which thou receivest not gladly, |
|Or else receivest with pleasure thine annoy? |
|If the true concord of well-tuned sounds, |
|By unions married, do offend thine ear, |
|They do but sweetly chide thee, who confounds |
|In singleness the parts that thou shouldst bear. |
|Mark how one string, sweet husband to another, |
|Strikes each in each by mutual ordering, |
|Resembling sire and child and happy mother |
|Who all in one, one pleasing note do sing: |
| Whose speechless song, being many, seeming one, |
| Sings this to thee: 'thou single wilt prove none.' |
| |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 9

|IX. |
|Is it for fear to wet a widow's eye |
|That thou consumest thyself in single life? |
|Ah! if thou issueless shalt hap to die. |
|The world will wail thee, like a makeless wife; |
|The world will be thy widow and still weep |
|That thou no form of thee hast left behind, |
|When every private widow well may keep |
|By children's eyes her husband's shape in mind. |
|Look, what an unthrift in the world doth spend |
|Shifts but his place, for still the world enjoys |
|it; |
|But beauty's waste hath in the world an end, |
|And kept unused, the user so destroys it. |
| No love toward others in that bosom sits |
| That on himself such murderous shame commits. |

|Sonnets of William Shakespeare |
|Sonnet 10 |
|X. |
|For shame! deny that thou bear'st love to any, |
|Who for thyself art so unprovident. |
|Grant, if thou wilt, thou art beloved of many, |
|But that thou none lovest is most evident; |
|For thou art so possess'd with murderous hate |
|That 'gainst thyself thou stick'st not to conspire. |
|Seeking that beauteous roof to ruinate |
|Which to repair should be thy chief desire. |
|O, change thy thought, that I may change my mind! |
|Shall hate be fairer lodged than gentle love? |
|Be, as thy presence is, gracious and kind, |
|Or to thyself at least kind-hearted prove: |
| Make thee another self, for love of me, |
| That beauty still may live in thine or thee. |
| |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 11

|XI. |
|As fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou growest |
|In one of thine, from that which thou departest; |
|And that fresh blood which youngly thou bestowest|
| |
|Thou mayst call thine when thou from youth |
|convertest. |
|Herein lives wisdom, beauty and increase: |
|Without this, folly, age and cold decay: |
|If all were minded so, the times should cease |
|And threescore year would make the world away. |
|Let those whom Nature hath not made for store, |
|Harsh featureless and rude, barrenly perish: |
|Look, whom she best endow'd she gave the more; |
|Which bounteous gift thou shouldst in bounty |
|cherish: |
| She carved thee for her seal, and meant thereby|
| |
| Thou shouldst print more, not let that copy |
|die. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 12

|XII. |
|When I do count the clock that tells the time, |
|And see the brave day sunk in hideous night; |
|When I behold the violet past prime, |
|And sable curls all silver'd o'er with white; |
|When lofty trees I see barren of leaves |
|Which erst from heat did canopy the herd, |
|And summer's green all girded up in sheaves |
|Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard, |
|Then of thy beauty do I question make, |
|That thou among the wastes of time must go, |
|Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake |
|And die as fast as they see others grow; |
| And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make |
|defence |
| Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee |
|hence. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 13

|XIII. |
|O, that you were yourself! but, love, you are |
|No longer yours than you yourself here live: |
|Against this coming end you should prepare, |
|And your sweet semblance to some other give. |
|So should that beauty which you hold in lease |
|Find no determination: then you were |
|Yourself again after yourself's decease, |
|When your sweet issue your sweet form should |
|bear. |
|Who lets so fair a house fall to decay, |
|Which husbandry in honour might uphold |
|Against the stormy gusts of winter's day |
|And barren rage of death's eternal cold? |
| O, none but unthrifts! Dear my love, you know |
| You had a father: let your son say so. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 14

|XIV. |
|Not from the stars do I my judgment pluck; |
|And yet methinks I have astronomy, |
|But not to tell of good or evil luck, |
|Of plagues, of dearths, or seasons' quality; |
|Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell, |
|Pointing to each his thunder, rain and wind, |
|Or say with princes if it shall go well, |
|By oft predict that I in heaven find: |
|But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive, |
|And, constant stars, in them I read such art |
|As truth and beauty shall together thrive, |
|If from thyself to store thou wouldst convert; |
| Or else of thee this I prognosticate: |
| Thy end is truth's and beauty's doom and date. |

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