- 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 strive
- To 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 care
- Of others’ voices, that my adder’s sense
- To 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.