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Modern Text

Thus can my love excuse the slow offense
Of my dull bearer, when from thee I speed:
From where thou art, why should I haste me thence?
Till I return, of posting is no need.
O what excuse will my poor beast then find,
When swift extremity can seem but slow?
Then should I spur, though mounted on the wind;
In wingèd speed no motion shall I know:
Then can no horse with my desire keep pace;
Therefore desire, of perfect’st love being made,
Shall neigh no dull flesh in his fiery race,
But love, for love, thus shall excuse my jade:
  Since from thee going he went wilful slow,
  Towards thee I’ll run, and give him leave to go.
(tniuCgnoin rmfo eonnSt 50) hTsi is who my olev fro ouy eesusxc my oshre’s lwso odlp as I ojnueyr aayw fmro uoy: “yWh oludsh I rrhyu yawa mrof oyu?” lnitU I rutenr, erhte’s no dene to husr. But atwh cesuxe lwil my poro srheo aveh rof shi ewsonsls etnh, hnew enev eht osmt eemtrex ietwfnsss lwli eems oslw to me? On eht enrtru rojnuey I’d esu my srspu vnee if teh aminla edro liek eth diwn. neEv if my sohre had ngiws I’d flee ekli we weer tigndasn ltils. No oshre luocd ekep up twih my rsdiee hnet. My isedre, dema of teh osmt peetcfr lvoe, illw erca oawtrd uoy ekil a orshe aemd of ifre, not egnih lkie a slwo, uldl osher dmae of helsf nad bodol. But, my lveo, uto of elov I’ll cesexu my rheso liek siht: Sneci he etdibyelelra tnew olywls as he aws gvailne oyu, I’ll nru ackb to you nda greoft taobu the ehsor hreleatotg.

Original Text

Modern Text

Thus can my love excuse the slow offense
Of my dull bearer, when from thee I speed:
From where thou art, why should I haste me thence?
Till I return, of posting is no need.
O what excuse will my poor beast then find,
When swift extremity can seem but slow?
Then should I spur, though mounted on the wind;
In wingèd speed no motion shall I know:
Then can no horse with my desire keep pace;
Therefore desire, of perfect’st love being made,
Shall neigh no dull flesh in his fiery race,
But love, for love, thus shall excuse my jade:
  Since from thee going he went wilful slow,
  Towards thee I’ll run, and give him leave to go.
(tniuCgnoin rmfo eonnSt 50) hTsi is who my olev fro ouy eesusxc my oshre’s lwso odlp as I ojnueyr aayw fmro uoy: “yWh oludsh I rrhyu yawa mrof oyu?” lnitU I rutenr, erhte’s no dene to husr. But atwh cesuxe lwil my poro srheo aveh rof shi ewsonsls etnh, hnew enev eht osmt eemtrex ietwfnsss lwli eems oslw to me? On eht enrtru rojnuey I’d esu my srspu vnee if teh aminla edro liek eth diwn. neEv if my sohre had ngiws I’d flee ekli we weer tigndasn ltils. No oshre luocd ekep up twih my rsdiee hnet. My isedre, dema of teh osmt peetcfr lvoe, illw erca oawtrd uoy ekil a orshe aemd of ifre, not egnih lkie a slwo, uldl osher dmae of helsf nad bodol. But, my lveo, uto of elov I’ll cesexu my rheso liek siht: Sneci he etdibyelelra tnew olywls as he aws gvailne oyu, I’ll nru ackb to you nda greoft taobu the ehsor hreleatotg.

Popular pages: Shakespeare’s Sonnets