Old London Bridge - Only for Poets

Old London Bridge - Only for Poets
Connecting the Poets who digging heart of me Still death - Sabarnasri

HEARTY WELCOME & HAVE A NICE STAY

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Thursday, May 21, 2009

William Shakespeare - Sonnet 121

Sonnet 121

CXXI.

'Tis better to be vile than vile esteem'd,
When not to be receives reproach of being,
And the just pleasure lost which is so deem'd
Not by our feeling but by others' seeing:
For why should others false adulterate eyes
Give salutation to my sportive blood?
Or on my frailties why are frailer spies,
Which in their wills count bad what I think good?
No, I am that I am, and they that level
At my abuses reckon up their own:
I may be straight, though they themselves be bevel;
By their rank thoughts my deeds must not be shown;
Unless this general evil they maintain,
All men are bad, and in their badness reign.

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