CXIIYour love and pity doth the impression fill,Which vulgar scandal stamp’d upon my brow;For what care I who calls me well or ill,So you o’er-green my bad, my good allow?You are my all-the-world, and I must striveTo know my shames and praises from your tongue;None else to me, nor I to none alive,That my steel’d sense or changes right or wrong.In so profound abysm I throw all careOf others’ voices, that my adder’s senseTo critic and to flatterer stopped 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.
Your love and pity doth the impression fill,Which vulgar scandal stamp’d upon my brow;For what care I who calls me well or ill,So you o’er-green my bad, my good allow?You are my all-the-world, and I must striveTo know my shames and praises from your tongue;None else to me, nor I to none alive,That my steel’d sense or changes right or wrong.In so profound abysm I throw all careOf others’ voices, that my adder’s senseTo critic and to flatterer stopped 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.