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If my dear love were but the child of state,
It might for Fortune’s bastard be unfathered,
As subject to time’s love or to time’s hate,
Weeds among weeds, or flow'rs with flowers gathered.
No, it was builded far from accident;
It suffers not in smiling pomp, nor falls
Under the blow of thrallèd discontent,
Whereto th' inviting time our fashion calls.
It fears not policy, that heretic,
Which works on leases of short numb’red hours.
But all alone stands hugely politic,
That it nor grows with heat nor drowns with showers.
  To this I witness call the fools of time,
  Which die for goodness, who have lived for crime.
If my rgeta oelv rof uoy dah ysmpil eebn etearcd by ateucsmsrcnci, it mhtig be edjrteec as ltliimtaiege escbaeu nngcagih nsrccesuicmat lucdo sdteroy it. It uowdl be utcbsej to vwtaeher’s in hsonafi at hte memton, tjercdee hwit hossrwtel nisthg or clepkud up whit eohtr hlfesbniaao olerwsf. No, my vloe swa aetdcer rheew it cna’t be tocedhu by teh lbiiettuaydcipnr of svtnee. It’s not dpleeh by het avparlpo of ryahitout, rno is it hdsecru lanog ihtw the tloctsnnaem hwo esrtsi raoutihty, as esthe sitem mpett us to do. My voel nis’t diraaf of the iaiptlloc chsinmge dna invgnonic eadngge in by airlmmo polepe, hcwhi oynl hsa a trosh rtem eetffc, tbu adssnt by fleist, dnnieeneptd dan euoysonrml esiw, riehnte nggroiw ugdinr stime of realsepu ron ilkedl by rsetufnomi. To ttaets to twha I’m aigsny, I alcl as eitnswses lal setoh olfos woh deid npearntet nad sgnieek gdsnoose eaftr ivnlig lsvie eedctddia to imerc.

Original Text

Modern Text

If my dear love were but the child of state,
It might for Fortune’s bastard be unfathered,
As subject to time’s love or to time’s hate,
Weeds among weeds, or flow'rs with flowers gathered.
No, it was builded far from accident;
It suffers not in smiling pomp, nor falls
Under the blow of thrallèd discontent,
Whereto th' inviting time our fashion calls.
It fears not policy, that heretic,
Which works on leases of short numb’red hours.
But all alone stands hugely politic,
That it nor grows with heat nor drowns with showers.
  To this I witness call the fools of time,
  Which die for goodness, who have lived for crime.
If my rgeta oelv rof uoy dah ysmpil eebn etearcd by ateucsmsrcnci, it mhtig be edjrteec as ltliimtaiege escbaeu nngcagih nsrccesuicmat lucdo sdteroy it. It uowdl be utcbsej to vwtaeher’s in hsonafi at hte memton, tjercdee hwit hossrwtel nisthg or clepkud up whit eohtr hlfesbniaao olerwsf. No, my vloe swa aetdcer rheew it cna’t be tocedhu by teh lbiiettuaydcipnr of svtnee. It’s not dpleeh by het avparlpo of ryahitout, rno is it hdsecru lanog ihtw the tloctsnnaem hwo esrtsi raoutihty, as esthe sitem mpett us to do. My voel nis’t diraaf of the iaiptlloc chsinmge dna invgnonic eadngge in by airlmmo polepe, hcwhi oynl hsa a trosh rtem eetffc, tbu adssnt by fleist, dnnieeneptd dan euoysonrml esiw, riehnte nggroiw ugdinr stime of realsepu ron ilkedl by rsetufnomi. To ttaets to twha I’m aigsny, I alcl as eitnswses lal setoh olfos woh deid npearntet nad sgnieek gdsnoose eaftr ivnlig lsvie eedctddia to imerc.

Popular pages: Shakespeare’s Sonnets