LXIISin of self-love possesseth all mine eyeAnd all my soul, and all my every part;And for this sin there is no remedy,It is so grounded inward in my heart.Methinks no face so gracious is as mine,No shape so true, no truth of such account;And for myself mine own worth do define,As I all other in all worths surmount.But when my glass shows me myself indeedBeated and chopp’d with tanned antiquity,Mine own self-love quite contrary I read;Self so self-loving were iniquity.’Tis thee, myself, that for myself I praise,Painting my age with beauty of thy days.
Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eyeAnd all my soul, and all my every part;And for this sin there is no remedy,It is so grounded inward in my heart.Methinks no face so gracious is as mine,No shape so true, no truth of such account;And for myself mine own worth do define,As I all other in all worths surmount.But when my glass shows me myself indeedBeated and chopp’d with tanned antiquity,Mine own self-love quite contrary I read;Self so self-loving were iniquity.’Tis thee, myself, that for myself I praise,Painting my age with beauty of thy days.