Sonnet 18: With What Sharp Checks
With
what
sharp
checks
I
in
myself
am
shent,
When
into
Reason's
audit
I
do
go:
And
by
just
counts
myself
a
bankrupt
know
Of
all
the
goods,
which
heav'n
to
me
hath
lent:
Unable
quite
to
pay
even
Nature's
rent,
Which
unto
it
by
birthright
I
do
owe:
And,
which
is
worse,
no
good
excuse
can
show,
But
that
my
wealth
I
have
most
idly
spend.
My
youth
doth
waste,
my
knowledge
brings
forth
toys,
My
wit
doth
strive
those
passions
to
defend,
Which
for
reward
spoil
it
with
vain
annoys.
I
see
my
course
to
lose
myself
doth
bend:
I
see
and
yet
no
greater
sorrow
take,
Than
that
I
lose
no
more
for
Stella's
sake.