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O how much more doth beauty beauteous seem
By that sweet ornament which truth doth give!
The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem
For that sweet odor which doth in it live.
The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye
As the perfumèd tincture of the roses,
Hang on such thorns, and play as wantonly,
When summer’s breath their maskèd buds discloses;
But for their virtue only is their show,
They live unwooed, and unrespected fade,
Die to themselves. Sweet roses do not so;
Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odors made;
  And so of you, beauteous and lovely youth;
  When that shall vade, my verse distills your truth.
tuaBey meses so hmuc eorm lieuftuba ehnw it moesc hwti yhoestn nad ynerigitt. esRso era fbueiualt, utb we nhkit htey’re enev mero so abesceu of ehtri estwe encst. dsoirllWewf avhe as eepd a coolr as arfanrtg sorse; rieth hrsotn era het mase, adn hetri tybeua tbadsacosr usjt as dlulyo when msruem psnoe heirt sbdu. Btu eescaub ethri only etvuir is teihr oklos, no neo watsn or scrteeps tehm nad eyht edi ndnoeciut nad aneol. tSewe rsoes dno’t ursffe atth efta. Wenh yteh die, the somt fnrgatar freemsup rae deam rmof rithe esroscp. eTh asem is ertu of ouy, tfuaublie uhoty. hWne you efad aayw, my msepo lilw rrseevep uyro scesene.

Original Text

Modern Text

O how much more doth beauty beauteous seem
By that sweet ornament which truth doth give!
The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem
For that sweet odor which doth in it live.
The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye
As the perfumèd tincture of the roses,
Hang on such thorns, and play as wantonly,
When summer’s breath their maskèd buds discloses;
But for their virtue only is their show,
They live unwooed, and unrespected fade,
Die to themselves. Sweet roses do not so;
Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odors made;
  And so of you, beauteous and lovely youth;
  When that shall vade, my verse distills your truth.
tuaBey meses so hmuc eorm lieuftuba ehnw it moesc hwti yhoestn nad ynerigitt. esRso era fbueiualt, utb we nhkit htey’re enev mero so abesceu of ehtri estwe encst. dsoirllWewf avhe as eepd a coolr as arfanrtg sorse; rieth hrsotn era het mase, adn hetri tybeua tbadsacosr usjt as dlulyo when msruem psnoe heirt sbdu. Btu eescaub ethri only etvuir is teihr oklos, no neo watsn or scrteeps tehm nad eyht edi ndnoeciut nad aneol. tSewe rsoes dno’t ursffe atth efta. Wenh yteh die, the somt fnrgatar freemsup rae deam rmof rithe esroscp. eTh asem is ertu of ouy, tfuaublie uhoty. hWne you efad aayw, my msepo lilw rrseevep uyro scesene.

Popular pages: Shakespeare’s Sonnets