Your love and pity doth th' impression fill <br />Which vulgar scandal stamped upon my brow; <br />For what care I who calls me well or ill, <br />So you o'ergreen 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 steeled 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 stoppèd 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-112-your-love-and-pity-doth-th-impression/
