With what sharp checks I in myself am shent, <br />When into Reason's audit I do go: <br />And by just counts myself a bankrupt know <br />Of all the goods, which heav'n to me hath lent: <br /> <br />Unable quite to pay even Nature's rent, <br />Which unto it by birthright I do owe: <br />And, which is worse, no good excuse can show, <br />But that my wealth I have most idly spend. <br /> <br />My youth doth waste, my knowledge brings forth toys, <br />My wit doth strive those passions to defend, <br />Which for reward spoil it with vain annoys. <br /> <br />I see my course to lose myself doth bend: <br />I see and yet no greater sorrow take, <br />Than that I lose no more for Stella's sake.<br /><br />Sir Philip Sidney<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-xviii-with-what-sharp-checks/
