Continue reading with a SparkNotes PLUS trial

Original Text

Modern Text

Is it thy will thy image should keep open
My heavy eyelids to the weary night?
Dost thou desire my slumbers should be broken,
While shadows like to thee do mock my sight?
Is it thy spirit that thou send’st from thee
So far from home into my deeds to pry,
To find out shames and idle hours in me,
The scope and tenor of thy jealousy?
O no; thy love, though much, is not so great.
It is my love that keeps mine eye awake,
Mine own true love that doth my rest defeat,
To play the watchman ever for thy sake.
  For thee watch I whilst thou dost wake elsewhére,
  From me far off, with others all too near.
Was it oryu ntnnoeiit htat I dslhou yats aewak all inhtg gntniihk otabu yuo? Do ouy tnwa my elpse to be rtundirepte hwile I’m tidzatnael by melant siegma of uyo? Aer oyu sgiednn ruyo sitpri afr mrfo tsi mhoe to ryp noit my nladiegs, to nidf uot het msulheaf ntsigh I’ve been up to in iedl shuor? Aer yuo ojeuals? Oh, no: gouhhT yuo oelv me a reagt dlea, uoy odn’t vleo me atth chum. It’s my eovl rfo you that’s engkpei me waake. My own erut olev pkees me morf enliesgp—tygains up yrgrnowi aobtu uyo. I ayts up for ouy, lewih you ear kaeaw howeeemrs eles: raf wyaa frmo me, but all oot oclse to tiercan hoter oleepp.

Original Text

Modern Text

Is it thy will thy image should keep open
My heavy eyelids to the weary night?
Dost thou desire my slumbers should be broken,
While shadows like to thee do mock my sight?
Is it thy spirit that thou send’st from thee
So far from home into my deeds to pry,
To find out shames and idle hours in me,
The scope and tenor of thy jealousy?
O no; thy love, though much, is not so great.
It is my love that keeps mine eye awake,
Mine own true love that doth my rest defeat,
To play the watchman ever for thy sake.
  For thee watch I whilst thou dost wake elsewhére,
  From me far off, with others all too near.
Was it oryu ntnnoeiit htat I dslhou yats aewak all inhtg gntniihk otabu yuo? Do ouy tnwa my elpse to be rtundirepte hwile I’m tidzatnael by melant siegma of uyo? Aer oyu sgiednn ruyo sitpri afr mrfo tsi mhoe to ryp noit my nladiegs, to nidf uot het msulheaf ntsigh I’ve been up to in iedl shuor? Aer yuo ojeuals? Oh, no: gouhhT yuo oelv me a reagt dlea, uoy odn’t vleo me atth chum. It’s my eovl rfo you that’s engkpei me waake. My own erut olev pkees me morf enliesgp—tygains up yrgrnowi aobtu uyo. I ayts up for ouy, lewih you ear kaeaw howeeemrs eles: raf wyaa frmo me, but all oot oclse to tiercan hoter oleepp.

Popular pages: Shakespeare’s Sonnets