O, lest the world should task you to
recite
What merit lived in me, that you should
love
After my death, dear love, forget me
quite,
For you in me can nothing worthy prove;
Unless you would devise some virtuous
lie,
To do more for me than mine own desert,
And hang more praise upon deceased I
Than niggard truth would willingly
impart:
O, lest your true love may seem false in
this,
That you for love speak well of me
untrue,
My name be buried where my body is,
And live no more to shame nor me nor
you.
For I am shamed by that which I bring
forth,
And so should you, to love things
nothing worth.
View all
Shakespeare's Sonnets:
