Sonnet 151: Love Is Too Young To Know What Conscience Is
William Shakespeare
Love is too young to know what conscience is; Yet who knows not conscience is born of love? Then, gentle cheater, urge not my amiss, Lest guilty of my faults thy sweet self prove. For thou betraying me, I do betray My nobler part to my gross body’s treason; My soul doth tell my body that he may Triumph in love; flesh stays no farther reason, But, rising at thy name, doth point out thee As his triumphant prize. Proud of this pride, He is contented thy poor drudge to be, To stand in thy affairs, fall by thy side. No want of conscience hold it that I call, Her “love” for whose dear love I rise and fall.
Next 10 Poems
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 152: In Loving Thee Thou Know'st I Am Forsworn
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 153: Cupid Laid By His Brand And Fell Asleep
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 154: The Little Love-god Lying Once Asleep
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 16: But Wherefore Do Not You A Mightier Way
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 17: Who Will Believe My Verse In Time To Come
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 18: Shall I Compare Thee To A Summer's Day?
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 19: Devouring Time Blunt Thou The Lion's Paws
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 2: When Forty Winters Shall Besiege Thy Brow
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 20: A Woman's Face With Nature's Own Hand Painted
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 21: So Is It Not With Me As With That Muse
Previous 10 Poems
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 150: O From What Power Hast Thou This Powerful Might
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 15: When I Consider Every Thing That Grows
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 149: Canst Thou, O Cruel, Say I Love Thee Not
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 148: O Me! What Eyes Hath Love Put In My Head
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 147: My Love Is As A Fever, Longing Still
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 146: Poor Soul, The Centre Of My Sinful Earth
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 145: Those Lips That Love's Own Hand Did Make
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 144: Two Loves I Have, Of Comfort And Despair
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 143: Lo, As A Careful Huswife Runs To Catch
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 142: Love Is My Sin, And Thy Dear Virtue Hate