Sonnet 074: But Be Contented When That Fell Arrest
William Shakespeare
But be contented when that fell arrest Without all bail shall carry me away; My life hath in this line some interest, Which for memorial still with thee shall stay. When thou reviewest this, thou dost review The very part was consecrate to thee, The earth can have but earth, which is his due; My spirit is thine the better part of me. So then thou hast but lost the dregs of life, The prey of worms, my body being dead, The coward conquest of a wretch’s knife, Too base of thee to be rememberèd, The worth of that is that which it contains, And that is this, and this with thee remains.
Next 10 Poems
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 075: So Are You To My Thoughts As Food To Life
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 076: Why Is My Verse So Barren Of New Pride?
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 077: Thy Glass Will Show Thee How Thy Beauties Wear
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 078: So Oft Have I Invoked Thee For My Muse
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 079: Whilst I Alone Did Call Upon Thy Aid
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 080: O, How I Faint When I Of You Do Write
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 081: Or I Shall Live Your Epitaph To Make
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 082: I Grant Thou Wert Not Married To My Muse
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 083: I Never Saw That You Did Painting Need
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 084: Who Is It That Says Most, Which Can Say More
Previous 10 Poems
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 073: That Time Of Year Thou Mayst In Me Behold
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 072: O, Lest The World Should Task You To Recite
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 071: No Longer Mourn For Me When I Am Dead
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 070: That Thou Art Blamed Shall Not Be Thy Defect
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 069: Those Parts Of Thee That The World's Eye Doth View
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 068: Thus Is His Cheek The Map Of Days Outworn
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 067: Ah, Wherefore With Infection Should He Live
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 066: Tired With All These, For Restful Death I Cry
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 065: Since Brass, Nor Stone, Nor Earth, Nor Boundless Sea
- William Shakespeare : Sonnet 064: When I Have Seen By Time's Fell Hand Defaced