Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Who can be patient in extremes?
Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day And make me travel forth without my cloak, To let base clouds o'ertake me in my way, Hiding they brav'ry in their rotten smoke?
But flies an eagle flight, bold and forth on, Leaving no tract behind.
Our wills and fates do so contrary run.
Under the colour of commending him I have access my own love to prefer; But Silvia is too fair, too true, too holy, To be corrupted with my worthless gifts.