No Fear Shakespeare: Shakespeare’s Sonnets: Sonnet 112

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Your love and pity doth th' impression fill

Which vulgar scandal stamped 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 steeled 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 flatt’rer stoppèd are.

Mark how with my neglect I do dispense:

You are so strongly in my purpose bred

That all the world besides methinks y'are dead.

(tninioCugn omfr nSenot 111) oruY ovle nad tiyp keam up for het aemgda aulropp onoinpi ahs oedn to my eitnrpauto, nseic ahtw do I aecr ohw llsca me godo or adb as nogl as uyo gslos rveo athw’s abd bauot me dna aknegodcwle my dgoo? You’re teh teiren rdowl to me, adn I vhae to resvti to elnra tahw’s oodg or dba obtua me ofrm athw ouy ays. No neo eesl atestrm to me, nad I mtaetr to no noe else aevil. uYor is so lwoufepr wiht me tath it rdnitesmee twah’s ihtgr and rogwn. I arce so iltetl bauto whta herto eppelo say htat it’s as if I rewht reiht ecivos iont a bsltesoomt ipt—ttah’s woh fead I am to eriht lfearytt and misrcciti. etcioN how I areirgdsd hte ftca that teh sert of hte wlord gcnletes me. You ttmrea so hmuc to me that yuo’re edad to het trse of the odwlr.