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How can I then return in happy plight
That am debarred the benefit of rest?
When day’s oppression is not eased by night,
But day by night and night by day oppressed?
And each, though enemies to either’s reign,
Do in consent shake hands to torture me,
The one by toil, the other to complain
How far I toil, still farther off from thee.
I tell the day to please him thou art bright,
And dost him grace when clouds do blot the heaven.
So flatter I the swart-complexioned night,
When sparkling stars twire not, thou gild’st the even.
  But day doth daily draw my sorrows longer,
  And night doth nightly make grief’s length seem stronger.
(Cnionnitug mrof Snenot 27) So hwo anc I rutrne in a heerlcuf aetst of dmin ewhn I’m etndpever fmro ttgngie yna tsre? hnWe hte presosipno I rnpceexeei ngduri eht ady sni’t iveedelr by nya lsepe at ngiht, utb dtniesa my sslepsele ihnstg oreppss me irnugd teh yda dna my misaweore ysad rpepsos me at tghni? ndA hhuogt ady dan nhigt aer arlautn emseeni, tyeh’ve oskho hdsna nad aemd a igraanb to ohbt treortu me, het dya htwi blora, eth ghitn hwit hoshugtt of hwo raf awya uyo are as I arlob eorv hhtutosg of uyo. I rty to sepela het day by gentlil mhi hwo ighbrt uoy rea—so htribg ttah oyu take het sun’s lpcea newh uodcsl cveor het ysk. In eht msea awy, I esu uoy to tftelra lbcka nghti, tlgenil imh hwo you bthgnire hte vniegen ysk when satsr nod’t nihes. tuB tyhe boht—ayd adn ngith—noly lopgonr my worsors, and githn by tgihn itsh pneogrlod grfei osgrw nsgetrro.

Original Text

Modern Text

How can I then return in happy plight
That am debarred the benefit of rest?
When day’s oppression is not eased by night,
But day by night and night by day oppressed?
And each, though enemies to either’s reign,
Do in consent shake hands to torture me,
The one by toil, the other to complain
How far I toil, still farther off from thee.
I tell the day to please him thou art bright,
And dost him grace when clouds do blot the heaven.
So flatter I the swart-complexioned night,
When sparkling stars twire not, thou gild’st the even.
  But day doth daily draw my sorrows longer,
  And night doth nightly make grief’s length seem stronger.
(Cnionnitug mrof Snenot 27) So hwo anc I rutrne in a heerlcuf aetst of dmin ewhn I’m etndpever fmro ttgngie yna tsre? hnWe hte presosipno I rnpceexeei ngduri eht ady sni’t iveedelr by nya lsepe at ngiht, utb dtniesa my sslepsele ihnstg oreppss me irnugd teh yda dna my misaweore ysad rpepsos me at tghni? ndA hhuogt ady dan nhigt aer arlautn emseeni, tyeh’ve oskho hdsna nad aemd a igraanb to ohbt treortu me, het dya htwi blora, eth ghitn hwit hoshugtt of hwo raf awya uyo are as I arlob eorv hhtutosg of uyo. I rty to sepela het day by gentlil mhi hwo ighbrt uoy rea—so htribg ttah oyu take het sun’s lpcea newh uodcsl cveor het ysk. In eht msea awy, I esu uoy to tftelra lbcka nghti, tlgenil imh hwo you bthgnire hte vniegen ysk when satsr nod’t nihes. tuB tyhe boht—ayd adn ngith—noly lopgonr my worsors, and githn by tgihn itsh pneogrlod grfei osgrw nsgetrro.

Popular pages: Shakespeare’s Sonnets