Sonnet 1 Sonnet 3 Sonnet 12 Sonnet 18 Sonnet 19 Sonnet 20 Sonnet 29 Sonnet 30 Sonnet 33 Sonnet 55 Sonnet 60 Sonnet 65 Sonnet 71 Sonnet 73 Sonnet 94 Sonnet 106 Sonnet 116 Sonnet 126 Sonnet 127 Sonnet 129 Sonnet 130 Sonnet 138 Sonnet 144 Sonnet 146 Sonnet 147

Sonnet 20

Original Text

A woman’s face with nature’s own hand painted, Hast thou, the master mistress of my passion; A woman’s gentle heart, but not acquainted With shifting change, as is false women’s fashion:

Modern English

You have a woman's face, painted by nature's own hand, you who are the master and mistress of my desire; a woman's tender heart — but without the habit of fickleness that false women are so fond of.

Original Text

An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling, Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth; A man in hue all ‘hues’ in his controlling, Which steals men’s eyes and women’s souls amazeth.

Modern English

Your eyes are brighter than theirs, and far more honest in what they seek, casting a golden light on everything they rest on; a man in form, yet commanding all forms and beauties, stealing men's glances and leaving women's souls undone.

Original Text

And for a woman wert thou first created; Till Nature, as she wrought thee, fell a-doting, And by addition me of thee defeated, By adding one thing to my purpose nothing.

Modern English

And it was as a woman that you were first intended; but Nature, as she shaped you, fell hopelessly in love with you and, adding something, cheated me of you — by giving you one thing that does me no good at all.

Original Text

But since she prick’d thee out for women’s pleasure, Mine be thy love and thy love’s use their treasure.

Modern English

But since she equipped you for women's pleasure, let your love be mine — and your body's use their gift.

Shakespeare's Sonnets

Sonnet 20

Sonnet 20