Sonnet CXII

Your love and pity doth the impression fill	1
Which vulgar scandal stamp'd upon my brow;	2
For what care I who calls me well or ill,	3
So you o'er-green my bad, my good allow?	4
You are my all the world, and I must strive	5
To know my shames and praises from your tongue:	6
None else to me, nor I to none alive,	7
That my steel'd sense or changes right or wrong.	8
In so profound abysm I throw all care	9
Of others' voices, that my adder's sense	10
To critic and to flatterer stopped are.	11
Mark how with my neglect I do dispense:	12
You are so strongly in my purpose bred	13
That all the world besides methinks are dead.	14