Your love and pity doth the 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'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 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 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 y'are dead.<br /><br />William Shakespeare<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-112-your-love-and-pity-doth-the-impression-fill/
