And chide thy beauty and thy straying youth,

  Who lead thee in their riot even there

  Where thou art forced to break a twofold truth:

  Hers by thy beauty tempting her to thee,

  Thine by thy beauty being false to me.

  41

  MODERN TEXT

  Those charming little infidelities that you commit when I’m away from you for awhile are understandable given your youth and beauty, since you’re continually tempted wherever you go. You’re noble and distinguished, so women see you as a prize catch. You’re beautiful, and therefore women pursue you aggressively. And when a woman is the pursuer, what man will rudely refuse her to get his point across? But, oh my—you might at least stay away from my mistress and keep your beauty and youthful urges in line, as they’re leading you into debauchery, which breaks two bonds: my mistress’s fidelity to me, which your beauty tempts her to break, and your bond with me, which your beauty, again, lets you break.

  42

  ORIGINAL TEXT

  That thou hast her it is not all my grief,

  And yet it may be said I loved her dearly;

  That she hath thee is of my wailing chief,

  A loss in love that touches me more nearly.

  Loving offenders, thus I will excuse ye:

  Thou dost love her because thou knowst I love her;

  And for my sake even so doth she abuse me,

  Suff’ring my friend for my sake to approve her.

  If I lose thee, my loss is my love’s gain,

  And losing her, my friend hath found that loss;

  Both find each other, and I lose both twain,

  And both for my sake lay on me this cross.

  But here’s the joy; my friend and I are one;

  Sweet flatt’ry! Then she loves but me alone.

  42

  MODERN TEXT

  The fact that you now have my mistress isn’t the only reason I’m hurt, though it’s true that I loved her dearly. What makes me cry the most is that now she has you, a loss of love that hurts me even more. You two criminals in love, here’s how I’ll rationalize the pain you’ve caused me: You, friend, love her because you know I love her. And she loves you for the exact same reason, putting up with your praises and lovemaking for my sake, because she knows you’re my friend. If I lose you, it’s a win for my mistress. And if I lose her, you will have found what I’ve lost. Both of the people I love find each other, and I lose them both, and both cause me this pain. But here’s what makes me happy: My friend and I are one person. How gratifying!—It turns out my mistress loves only me.

  43

  ORIGINAL TEXT

  When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see,

  For all the day they view things unrespected;

  But when I sleep, in dreams they look on thee,

  And, darkly bright, are bright in dark directed.

  Then thou, whose shadow shadows doth make bright—

  How would thy shadow’s form form happy show

  To the clear day with thy much clearer light,

  When to unseeing eyes thy shade shines so?

  How would, I say, mine eyes be blessèd made

  By looking on thee in the living day,

  When in dead night thy fair imperfect shade

  Through heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth stay?

  All days are nights to see till I see thee,

  And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.

  43

  MODERN TEXT

  My eyes work best when I’m asleep, because all day they look at things I don’t care about. When I sleep, my dreaming eyes alight on you and glitter brightly in the dark, having found your bright image there. Given that your shadowy dream-image brightens even the dark, how bright might you appear in daylight, when your own light is so much clearer? How bright, when your shadow shines so brightly to my eyes blinded by darkness? What good would it do my eyes to see you in the daytime when they already look at your beautiful image in the dead of night, as I sleep? Every day is as dark as night until I get to see you again, and every night is as bright as day when I see you in my dreams.

  44

  ORIGINAL TEXT

  If the dull substance of my flesh were thought,

  Injurious distance should not stop my way;

  For then, despite of space, I would be brought

  From limits far remote where thou dost stay.

  No matter then although my foot did stand

  Upon the farthest earth removed from thee,

  For nimble thought can jump both sea and land

  As soon as think the place where he would be.

  But ah, thought kills me that I am not thought

  To leap large lengths of miles when thou art gone,

  But that so much of earth and water wrought,

  I must attend time’s leisure with my moan,

  Receiving naughts by elements so slow

  But heavy tears, badges of either’s woe.

  44

  MODERN TEXT

  If I were made of thought instead of slow, dull flesh, this wicked distance between us wouldn’t keep me from where I wanted to be. No matter the distance—from the farthest possible regions—I would bring myself to where you are. It wouldn’t matter that my feet were standing on the spot on earth farthest from you: Thought is nimble enough to jump over both sea and land as quickly as it can think about the place it wants to be. But, ah, it’s killing me to think that I’m not made of thought and can’t leap over the many miles when you are gone. Instead my body is made of so much earth and water that I have to fill the long time without you with my moans. The leaden, deep earth and slow, wet water of which I am made give me nothing but heavy tears.

  The speaker alludes to the belief that all matter is made up of four elements: earth, water, air, and fire. Earth and water were believed to be the heaviest, most tangible elements.

  45

  ORIGINAL TEXT

  The other two, slight air and purging fire,

  Are both with thee, wherever I abide;

  The first my thought, the other my desire,

  These present absent with swift motion slide.

  For when these quicker elements are gone

  In tender embassy of love to thee,

  My life, being made of four, with two alone

  Sinks down to death, oppressed with melancholy;

  Until life’s composition be recured

  By those swift messengers returned from thee,

  Who ev’n but now come back again, assured

  Of thy fair health, recounting it to me.

  This told, I joy, but then no longer glad,

  I send them back again and straight grow sad.

  45

  MODERN TEXT

  The other two elements, weightless air and purifying fire, both remain with you, wherever I may be. Air is my thoughts, and fire is my desire. The two of them slide back and forth between us swiftly and effortlessly. Normally I am made up of all four elements, but when my air and fire are off on their errand of love to you, I sink into depression and slide toward death, until air and fire return to restore the proper balance within me. Even now, they have returned from you to tell me that you’re well and in good health. I rejoice to hear this but then immediately grow gloomy from missing you, so I send them back to you and immediately grow sad again.

  This sonnet, like Sonnet 44, is based on the idea that matter is composed of the four elements: earth, water, air, and fire.

  The speaker refers to the Renaissance notion that melancholy, or depression, is caused by an imbalance of substances within the body.

  46

  ORIGINAL TEXT

  Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war

  How to divide the conquest of thy sight;

  Mine eye my heart thy picture’s sight would bar;

  My heart mine eye the freedom of that right.

  My heart doth plead that thou in him dost lie,

  A closet never pierced with crystal eyes;

  But the defendant doth that plea deny,

  And says in him thy fair appearance lies.

  To ’cide this title is empanellèd

  A quest of thoughts, all tenants to the heart,

  And by their verdict is determinèd

  The clear eye’s moiety and the dear heart’s part:

  As thus—mine eye’s due is thy outward part,

  And my heart’s right, thy inward love of heart.

  46

  MODERN TEXT

  My eye and my heart have gone to war with each other. They’re fighting over who gets to control your image. My eye wants to bar my heart from the image that it formed, while my heart wants to keep my eye away from its image. My heart insists that your image lies safely hidden inside of him, protected from eyes, which give everything away. But my eye, the defendant, denies the charges and argues that your beauty resides in him. To decide whose claim is right, I have assembled a jury consisting of my thoughts, all of which owe allegiance to the heart. And they have delivered a verdict to determine which portion of your image belongs to the eyes and which precious portion to the heart. This is what they say: My eyes have the rights to your outward appearance, and my heart has the right to love you and be loved by you.

  47

  ORIGINAL TEXT

  Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is took,

  And each doth good turns now unto the other.

  When that mine eye is famished for a look,

  Or heart in love with sighs himself doth smother,

  With my love’s picture then my eye doth feast

  And to the painted banquet bids my heart.

  Another time mine eye is my heart’s guest,

  And in his thoughts of love doth share a part.

  So either by thy picture or my love,

  Thyself away are present still with me;

  For thou no farther than my thoughts canst move,

  And I am still with them, and they with thee;

  Or if they sleep, thy picture in my sight

  Awakes my heart to heart’s and eye’s delight.

  47

  MODERN TEXT

  My eye and my heart have reached an agreement, and now each does the other favors. When my eye is starving to take a look at you or my heart smothers itself with sighs of love for you, then my eye feasts on a painting of you and invites my heart to join in the banquet and stare at the painting too. On another occasion, my eye is the guest with whom my heart shares some of his thoughts of love. So when you are gone, you’re still present with me, either through your painting or in my love for you: You can’t travel farther than my thoughts, and I’m always with them, and they are always with you. Even if my thoughts go to sleep, your painting will wake up my heart and delight both heart and eyes.

  48

  ORIGINAL TEXT

  How careful was I, when I took my way,

  Each trifle under truest bars to thrust,

  That to my use it might unusèd stay

  From hands of falsehood, in sure wards of trust.

  But thou, to whom my jewels trifles are,

  Most worthy comfort, now my greatest grief,

  Thou best of dearest, and mine only care,

  Art left the prey of every vulgar thief.

  Thee have I not locked up in any chest,

  Save where thou art not, though I feel thou art,

  Within the gentle closure of my breast,

  From whence at pleasure thou mayst come and part;

  And even thence thou wilt be stol’n, I fear,

  For truth proves thievish for a prize so dear.

  48

  MODERN TEXT

  I used to be so careful when I’d travel to secure all my trivial possessions with the most reliable locks available so criminals wouldn’t tamper with them. But you, so much more precious than my jewels and my greatest comfort, have become my greatest sadness and worry, because you’re vulnerable to any common thief. I haven’t locked you up in any chest, other than in my own chest, where my heart is, and you’re not really there, even though I feel that you are. You can come and go from my heart as you please, and I’m afraid you’ll be stolen from there, because even an honest man would turn thief to get such a rich prize.

  49

  ORIGINAL TEXT

  Against that time (if ever that time come)

  When I shall see thee frown on my defects;

  Whenas thy love hath cast his utmost sum,

  Called to that audit by advised respects;

  Against that time when thou shalt strangely pass,

  And scarcely greet me with that sun, thine eye;

  When love, converted from the thing it was,

  Shall reasons find of settled gravity;

  Against that time do I ensconce me here

  Within the knowledge of mine own desert,

  And this my hand against myself uprear

  To guard the lawful reasons on thy part:

  To leave poor me, thou hast the strength of laws,

  Since why to love I can allege no cause.

  49

  MODERN TEXT

  In anticipation of the time, if it ever comes, when I will see you frown at my defects; when mature reflection tells you that you’ve come to the end of your love for me; in anticipation of that time when you will pass by me like a stranger, barely even acknowledging me with a glance of your brilliant eye; when your love for me isn’t love anymore and you’re guided only by somber judgment—in anticipation of that time, I’m establishing myself here, knowing how little I really deserve, and I’m giving testimony against myself to defend the justice of your future actions. You have every right to leave poor me—all the laws of reason back you up—since I can’t offer any justification for your loving me.

  50

  ORIGINAL TEXT

  How heavy do I journey on the way

  When what I seek (my weary travel’s end)

  Doth teach that ease and that repose to say,

  “Thus far the miles are measured from thy friend.”

  The beast that bears me, tired with my woe,

  Plods dully on to bear that weight in me,

  As if by some instinct the wretch did know

  His rider loved not speed, being made from thee.

  The bloody spur cannot provoke him on

  That sometimes anger thrusts into his hide,

  Which heavily he answers with a groan,

  More sharp to me than spurring to his side;

  For that same groan doth put this in my mind:

  My grief lies onward and my joy behind.

  50

  MODERN TEXT

  I feel very depressed as I go on my journey, because I know when I get where I’m going I’ll have time and leisure to rest, and when I have that time to rest I’ll have nothing to think about except “I’m this many miles away from my friend.” The horse that carries me, affected by my sadness, plods slowly on, bearing the weight of my emotions, as if by some instinct the poor creature knew that I didn’t want to move quickly away from you. I can’t provoke him to go any faster with the bloody spur that I sometimes thrust into his hide in anger. He only answers me with a groan, which hurts me more than my spur hurts him, because it reminds me that my grief lies ahead of me and all my joy is behind me.

  51

  ORIGINAL TEXT

  Thus can my love excuse the slow offense

  Of my dull bearer, when from thee I speed:

  From where thou art, why should I haste me thence?

  Till I return, of posting is no need.

  O what excuse will my poor beast then find,

  When swift extremity can seem but slow?

  Then should I spur, though mounted on the wind;

  In wingèd speed no motion shall I know:

  Then can no horse with my desire keep pace;

  Therefore desire, of perfect’st love being made,

  Shall neigh no dull flesh in his fiery race,

  But love, for love, thus shall excuse my jade:

  Since from thee going he went wilful slow,

  Towards thee I’ll run, and give him leave to go.

  51

  MODERN TEXT

  (Continuing from Sonnet 50) This is how my love for you excuses my horse’s slow plod as I journey away from you: “Why should I hurry away from you?” Until I return, there’s no need to rush. But what excuse will my poor horse have for his slowness then, when even the most extreme swiftness will seem slow to me? On the return journey I’d use my spurs even if the animal rode like the wind. Even if my horse had wings I’d feel like we were standing still. No horse could keep up with my desire then. My desire, made of the most perfect love, will race toward you like a horse made of fire, not neigh like a slow, dull horse made of flesh and blood. But, my love, out of love I’ll excuse my horse like this: Since he deliberately went slowly as he was leaving you, I’ll run back to you and forget about the horse altogether.

  52

  ORIGINAL TEXT

  So am I as the rich whose blessèd key

  Can bring him to his sweet up-lockèd treasure,

  The which he will not every hour survey,

  For blunting the fine point of seldom pleasure.

  Therefore are feasts so solemn and so rare,

  Since seldom coming in the long year set,

  Like stones of worth they thinly placèd are,

  Or captain jewels in the carcanet.

  So is the time that keeps you as my chest,

  Or as the wardrobe which the robe doth hide,

  To make some special instant special blest

  By new unfolding his imprisoned pride.

  Blessèd are you whose worthiness gives scope,