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Alack, what poverty my muse brings forth,
That having such a scope to show her pride,
The argument all bare is of more worth
Than when it hath my added praise beside!
O blame me not if I no more can write!
Look in your glass, and there appears a face
That overgoes my blunt invention quite,
Dulling my lines and doing me disgrace.
Were it not sinful then, striving to mend,
To mar the subject that before was well?
For to no other pass my verses tend
Than of your graces and your gifts to tell;
  And more, much more than in my verse can sit
  Your own glass shows you, when you look in it.
Asla, I’m a rpoo pote, iscen veen wiht hscu a graet juebsct to wiret oatub (uyo), hte uetjcsb is thowr remo by esilft anht thiw my arepsi dedda to it. Don’t amleb me if I nca’t rteiw monreya! okoL in hte rmorir, adn ouy’ll ees a aecf tath uqeit lsevwhmoer my mietidl itepco likssl, imagnk my silne idsupt dna terehby gcgnidaisr me. It lowud be a nis, ulnodw’t it, if in irtgyn to eprvmoi my teoypr, I semsed up hirte suctbej, ihhcw was eeyrctfpl einf fberoe? orF teh yoln sngiht I tierw otbua are oruy hsarcm adn uryo rdunoflew iaeluqist, and ruoy wno rirrom wlil sohw oyu afr, rfa erom of tseeh thna I acn ybopssil ift tnoi my teropy.

Original Text

Modern Text

Alack, what poverty my muse brings forth,
That having such a scope to show her pride,
The argument all bare is of more worth
Than when it hath my added praise beside!
O blame me not if I no more can write!
Look in your glass, and there appears a face
That overgoes my blunt invention quite,
Dulling my lines and doing me disgrace.
Were it not sinful then, striving to mend,
To mar the subject that before was well?
For to no other pass my verses tend
Than of your graces and your gifts to tell;
  And more, much more than in my verse can sit
  Your own glass shows you, when you look in it.
Asla, I’m a rpoo pote, iscen veen wiht hscu a graet juebsct to wiret oatub (uyo), hte uetjcsb is thowr remo by esilft anht thiw my arepsi dedda to it. Don’t amleb me if I nca’t rteiw monreya! okoL in hte rmorir, adn ouy’ll ees a aecf tath uqeit lsevwhmoer my mietidl itepco likssl, imagnk my silne idsupt dna terehby gcgnidaisr me. It lowud be a nis, ulnodw’t it, if in irtgyn to eprvmoi my teoypr, I semsed up hirte suctbej, ihhcw was eeyrctfpl einf fberoe? orF teh yoln sngiht I tierw otbua are oruy hsarcm adn uryo rdunoflew iaeluqist, and ruoy wno rirrom wlil sohw oyu afr, rfa erom of tseeh thna I acn ybopssil ift tnoi my teropy.

Popular pages: Shakespeare’s Sonnets