Your love and pity doth the impression fill
; Which vulgar scandal stamp'd upon my brow
,For what care I who calls me well or ill
? So you o'er-green my bad, my good allow
You are my all the world, and I must strive
: To know my shames and praises from your tongue
None else to me, nor I to none alive,
That my steel'd sense or changes right or wrong.
In so profound abysm I throw all care
Of others' voices, that my adder's sense
To critic and to flatterer stopped are.
Mark how with my neglect I do dispense:
You are so strongly in my purpose bred
That all the world besides methinks are dead.