#sonnet 139

[noiredeoro]

“𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭, 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐞𝐲𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞.” —𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒕 𝟏𝟑𝟗 The beloved is addressed tenderly and still told where not to look.

[p-isforpoetry]

Sonnet 139 by William Shakespeare (read by Eli Wallach)

O, call not me to justify the wrong That thy unkindness lays upon my heart; Wound me not with thine eye but with thy tongue; Use power with power, and slay me not by art.

Tell me thou lov’st elsewhere; but in my sight, Dear heart, forbear to glance thine eye aside; What need’st thou wound with cunning when thy might Is more than my o’erpressed defense can bide?

Let me excuse thee: ah, my love well knows Her pretty looks have been mine enemies; And therefore from my face she turns my foes, That they elsewhere might dart their injuries—Yet do not so; but since I am near slain, Kill me outright with looks and rid my pain.

Source: The Complete Shakespeare Sonnets

[p-isforpoetry]

Sonnet 139 by William Shakespeare (read by Sir Patrick Stewart)

O, call not me to justify the wrong That thy unkindness lays upon my heart; Wound me not with thine eye but with thy tongue; Use power with power, and slay me not by art.

Tell me thou lov’st elsewhere; but in my sight, Dear heart, forbear to glance thine eye aside; What need’st thou wound with cunning when thy might Is more than my o’erpressed defense can bide?

Let me excuse thee: ah, my love well knows Her pretty looks have been mine enemies; And therefore from my face she turns my foes, That they elsewhere might dart their injuries—

   Yet do not so; but since I am near slain,    Kill me outright with looks and rid my pain.

[shakespeare-sonnettos]

Sonnet CXXXIX

O, call not me to justify the wrong

That thy unkindness lays upon my heart ;

Wound me not with thine eye but with thy tongue ;

Use power with power and slay me not by art.

Tell me thou lov’st elsewhere ; but in my sight,

Dear heart, forbear to glance thine eye aside ;

What need’st thou wound with cunning when thy might

Is more than my o’erpressed defense can bide ?

Let me excuse thee ; ah my love well knows

Her pretty looks have been my enemies,

And therefore from my face she turns my foes,

That they elsewhere might dart their injuries.

Yet do not so ; but since I am near slain,

Kill me outright with looks and kill my pain.

[quothshakespeare-blog]

Sonnet 139

When my love swears that she is made of truth, I do believe her though I know she lies, That she might think me some untutored youth, Unlearned in the world's false subtleties. Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young, Although she knows my days are past the best, Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue: On both sides thus is simple truth suppressed: But wherefore says she not she is unjust? And wherefore say not I that I am old? O! love's best habit is in seeming trust, And age in love, loves not to have years told:   Therefore I lie with her, and she with me,   And in our faults by lies we flattered be.

[shakespeareandtheatre]

Sonnet 139

O, call not me to justify the wrong That thy unkindness lays upon my heart; Wound me not with thine eye but with thy tongue; Use power with power and slay me not by art. Tell me thou lovest elsewhere, but in my sight, Dear heart, forbear to glance thine eye aside: What need'st thou wound with cunning when thy might Is more than my o'er-press'd defense can bide? Let me excuse thee: ah! my love well knows Her pretty looks have been mine enemies, And therefore from my face she turns my foes, That they elsewhere might dart their injuries:    Yet do not so; but since I am near slain,    Kill me outright with looks and rid my pain.

[i-wished-to-live-deliberate-blog]

Therefore I lie with her, and she with me, And in our faults by lies we flattered be.

Sonnet 139, Shakespeare

[mass-attack]

Sonnet 139

O! call not me to justify the wrong That thy unkindness lays upon my heart; Wound me not with thine eye, but with thy tongue: Use power with power, and slay me not by art, Tell me thou lov’st elsewhere; but in my sight, Dear heart, forbear to glance thine eye aside: What need’st thou wound with cunning, when thy might Is more than my o’erpressed defence can bide? Let me excuse thee: ah! my love well knows Her pretty looks have been mine enemies; And therefore from my face she turns my foes, That they elsewhere might dart their injuries: Yet do not so; but since I am near slain, Kill me outright with looks, and rid my pain. 

-William Shakespeare