Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eye,
And all my soul, and all my every part;
And for this sin there is no remedy,
It is so grounded inward in my heart.
Methinks no face so gracious is as mine,
No shape so true, no truth of such account;
And for my self mine own worth do define,
As I all other in all worths surmount.
But when my glass shows me myself indeed
Beated and chapped with tanned antiquity,
Mine own self-love quite contrary I read;
Self so self-loving were iniquity.
'Tis thee, myself, that for my self I praise,
Painting my age with beauty of thy days.
More verses by William Shakespeare
- Sonnet Cxii
- Sonnet 83: I Never Saw That You Did Painting Need
- Sonnet 45: The Other Two, Slight Air And Purging Fire
- Sonnet Cxlvii
- Sonnet 48: How Careful Was I, When I Took My Way