[00:20.79]Image of her whom I love, more than she,
[00:21.51]Whose fair impression in my faithful heart,
[00:22.35]Makes me her medal, and makes her love me,
[00:36.81]As kings do coins, to which their stamps impart
[00:41.85]The value: go, and take my heart from hence,
[00:50.34]Which now is grown too great and good for me:
[01:00.75]Honours oppress weak spirits, and our sense
[01:04.23]Strong objects dull; the more, the less we see.
[01:07.26]When you are gone, and reason gone with you,
[01:20.91]Then fantasy is queen and soul, and all;
[01:28.23]She can present joys meaner than you do;
[01:30.36]Convenient, and more proportional.
[01:37.35]So, if I dream I have you, I have you,
[03:14.55]For, all our joys are but fantastical.
[03:15.81]And so I 'scape the pain, for pain is true;
[03:28.11]And sleep which locks ups sense, doth lock out all.
[03:34.23]After a such friction I shall wake,
[03:42.57]And, but the waking, nothing shall repent;
[03:50.97]And shall to love more thankful sonnets make,
[03:53.04]Than if more honour, tears, and pains were spent.
[04:00.54]Bur dearest heart, and dearer image stay;
[04:09.33]Alas, true joys at best are dream enough;
[04:17.28]Though you stay here you pass too fast away:
[04:23.94]For even at first life's taper is a snuff.
[04:26.28]Filled with here love, may I be rather grown
[04:34.95]Mad with much heart, than idiot with none.

Image of her whom I love, more than she,
Whose fair impression in my faithful heart,
Makes me her medal, and makes her love me,
As kings do coins, to which their stamps impart
The value: go, and take my heart from hence,
Which now is grown too great and good for me:
Honours oppress weak spirits, and our sense
Strong objects dull; the more, the less we see.
When you are gone, and reason gone with you,
Then fantasy is queen and soul, and all;
She can present joys meaner than you do;
Convenient, and more proportional.
So, if I dream I have you, I have you,
For, all our joys are but fantastical.
And so I 'scape the pain, for pain is true;
And sleep which locks ups sense, doth lock out all.
After a such friction I shall wake,
And, but the waking, nothing shall repent;
And shall to love more thankful sonnets make,
Than if more honour, tears, and pains were spent.
Bur dearest heart, and dearer image stay;
Alas, true joys at best are dream enough;
Though you stay here you pass too fast away:
For even at first life's taper is a snuff.
Filled with here love, may I be rather grown
Mad with much heart, than idiot with none.