Sonnet 112: Your love and pity doth the impression fill

1Your love and pity doth the impression fill,

2Which vulgar scandal stamp'd upon my brow;

3For what care I who calls me well or ill,

4So you o'er-green my bad, my good allow?

5You are my all-the-world, and I must strive

6To know my shames and praises from your tongue;

7None else to me, nor I to none alive,

8That my steel'd sense or changes right or wrong.

9In so profound abysm I throw all care

10Of others' voices, that my adder's sense

11To critic and to flatterer stopped are.

12Mark how with my neglect I do dispense:

13 You are so strongly in my purpose bred,

14 That all the world besides methinks are dead.