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