Sonnet One hundred and twenty-five by William Shakespeare

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Sonnet XXV

by William Shakespeare

 

Were ’t aught to me I bore the canopy,
With my extern the outward honoring,
Or laid great bases for eternity,
Which proves more short than waste or ruining?
Have I not seen dwellers on form and favor
Lose all and more by paying too much rent,
For compound sweet forgoing simple savor,
Pitiful thrivers, in their gazing spent?
No, let me be obsequious in thy heart,
And take thou my oblation, poor but free,
Which is not mixed with seconds, knows no art
But mutual render, only me for thee.
 Hence, thou suborned informer; a true soul
 When most impeached stands least in thy control.

 

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