Sonnet 112 (Your Love And Pity Doth Th’ Impression Fill)

Sonnet 112 (Your Love And Pity Doth Th’ Impression Fill)!

Your love and pity doth th’ impression fill,
Which vulgar scandal stamped upon my brow;
For what care I who calls me well or ill,
So you o’ergreen 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 steeled sense or changes, right or wrong.
In so profound abysm I throw all care
Of others’ voices that my adder’s sense
To critic and to flatterer stoppèd are.
Mark how with my neglect I do dispense.
You are so strongly in my purpose bred,
That all the world besides, methinks, are dead.

Sonnet 112 (Your Love And Pity Doth Th’ Impression Fill)

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