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| SONNET 62 |
| Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eye |
| And all my soul and all my every part; |
| And for this sin there is no remedy, |
| It is so grounded inward in my heart. |
| Methinks no face so gracious is as mine, |
| No shape so true, no truth of such account; |
| And for myself mine own worth do define, |
| As I all other in all worths surmount. |
| But when my glass shows me myself indeed, |
| Beated and chopp'd with tann'd antiquity, |
| Mine own self-love quite contrary I read; |
| Self so self-loving were iniquity. |
| 'Tis thee, myself, that for myself I praise, |
| Painting my age with beauty of thy days. |
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