Sonnet 130
William Shakespeare
My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun; 1
Coral is far more red than her lips’ red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damasked, red and white, 5
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound; 10
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress when she walks treads on the ground.
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare. 14
On My First Sonne
Ben Jonson
Farewell, thou child of my right hand, and joy; 1
My sinne was too much hope of thee, lov’d boy.
Seven yeeres tho’wert lent to me, and I thee pay,
Exacted by thy fate, on the just day.
O, could I loose all father, now. For why 5
Will man lament the state he should envie?
To have so soone scap’d worlds, and fleshes rage,
And, if no other miserie, yet age?
Rest in soft peace, and, ask’d, say here doth lye
Ben Jonson his best piece of poetrie.10
For whose sake, hence-forth, all his vows be such,
As what he loves may never like too much. 12
Sonnet 130 and On My First Sonne.doc
