The Complete Works of William Shakespeare In Plain and Simple English (Translated) (1123 page)

O, how thy worth with manners may I sing,

When thou art all the better part of me?

What can mine own praise to mine own self bring?

And what is 't but mine own when I praise thee?

Even for this let us divided live,

And our dear love lose name of single one,

That by this separation I may give

That due to thee which thou deservest alone.

O absence, what a torment wouldst thou prove,

Were it not thy sour leisure gave sweet leave

To entertain the time with thoughts of love,

Which time and thoughts so sweetly doth deceive,

And that thou teachest how to make one twain,

By praising him here who doth hence remain!

How can I praise the worth of your character,

When you are the better half of me?

How can I praise you without praising myself?

And what else is it but praise for myself when I praise you?

Because of this, let us live apart,

And our dear love will not be of a single name,

And through the separation I can give you

The honor that you alone deserve.

Oh, absence—you would be such a torment,

If your painful moments did not permit me

To fill the time with thoughts of love,  

So that time and my thoughts do sweetly deceive,

And you teach me how to make one into two,

By praising the one who does not remain here!

Take all my loves, my love, yea, take them all;

What hast thou then more than thou hadst before?

No love, my love, that thou mayst true love call;

All mine was thine before thou hadst this more.

Then if for my love thou my love receivest,

I cannot blame thee for my love thou usest;

But yet be blamed, if thou thyself deceivest

By wilful taste of what thyself refusest.

I do forgive thy robbery, gentle thief,

Although thou steal thee all my poverty;

And yet, love knows, it is a greater grief

To bear love's wrong than hate's known injury.

Lascivious grace, in whom all ill well shows,

Kill me with spites; yet we must not be foes.

Take all of my loves, my love, yes—take them all.

What do you have more of now than you had before?

You have no love, my love, that you can call true love.

All of my love was yours before you had this little bit more.

So, if because of my love you receive love,

I can not blame you for the love you’ve used.

Still, you should be blamed, if you deceive

By deliberately testing what you have refused from me.

I will forgive your stealing from me, gentle thief,

Even thought you are taking the little I have.

And still, love knows, it causes more pain

To be hurt by a lover than by someone who hates us.

Love is graceful even when it looks bad:

You can kill me with hate, but we will not be enemies.

Those petty wrongs that liberty commits,

When I am sometime absent from thy heart,

Thy beauty and thy years full well befits,

For still temptation follows where thou art.

Gentle thou art and therefore to be won,

Beauteous thou art, therefore to be assailed;

And when a woman woos, what woman's son

Will sourly leave her till she have prevailed?

Ay me! but yet thou mightest my seat forbear,

And chide try beauty and thy straying youth,

Who lead thee in their riot even there

Where thou art forced to break a twofold truth,

Hers by thy beauty tempting her to thee,

Thine, by thy beauty being false to me.

Those little slights that freedom allows you

When I am absent from your heart sometimes,

Suit your beauty and youthful age well.

Temptation goes wherever you are.

You are gentle and so you make a nice prize,

And you are good looking and will be pursued.

And when a woman flirts with you, how could you

Possibly ignore her until she has won you over?

Oh, me! But still, please leave my own situation alone,

And please try to keep your beauty and footloose youth in line,

Although your excess may lead you to my mistress,

Where you would break two promises:

Hers to me by tempting her to you with your beauty,

Yours to me by allowing your beauty to win her.

That thou hast her, it is not all my grief,

And yet it may be said I loved her dearly;

That she hath thee, is of my wailing chief,

A loss in love that touches me more nearly.

Loving offenders, thus I will excuse ye:

Thou dost love her, because thou knowst I love her;

And for my sake even so doth she abuse me,

Suffering my friend for my sake to approve her.

If I lose thee, my loss is my love's gain,

And losing her, my friend hath found that loss;

Both find each other, and I lose both twain,

And both for my sake lay on me this cross:

But here's the joy; my friend and I are one;

Sweet flattery! then she loves but me alone.

You have her, but that is not the cause of my sorrows,

Although it can be said I loved her dearly.

That she has you is what’s making me miserable,

And that loss of love touches me deeper.

You are both loving in your wrong and so I will excuse you.

You only love her because you know I love her.

And for my sake, she deceives me,

And puts up with you, my friend.

If I lose you, my loss is her gain.

And if I lose her, my friend has gained her.

Both find each other, and I lose both together.

And both of you cause me to feel so much pain.

But here’s the happy part: my friend and I are one,

So, there! Because of that, she only loves me.

When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see,

For all the day they view things unrespected;

But when I sleep, in dreams they look on thee,

And darkly bright are bright in dark directed.

Then thou, whose shadow shadows doth make bright,

How would thy shadow's form form happy show

To the clear day with thy much clearer light,

When to unseeing eyes thy shade shines so!

How would, I say, mine eyes be blessed made

By looking on thee in the living day,

When in dead night thy fair imperfect shade

Through heavy sleep on sightless eyes doth stay!

All days are nights to see till I see thee,

And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.

When I blink a lot, then my eyes feel better

After viewing things of little value all day.

But when I sleep, it’s you I see in my dreams,

And when my eyes find you, they shimmer brightly in the dark.

Then your shadow, which makes even shadows seem brighter,

Can be seen easily and makes for a happy sight.

In the clear day with much clearer light—

When even the blind would see it—your shadow shines.

Oh, can’t you see, my eyes would be so brightly blessed,

To look on you in broad daylight?

Still, in the dead of night, your imperfect image

Stays on the inside of my eyelids during my deepest slumber.

All days are night until I see you again,

And nights are brighter than day when I see you in my dreams.