SONNET 89.

Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault,
And I will comment up that offence:
Speak of my lameness, and I straight will halt,

Against thy reasons making no defence.
Thou canst not, love, disgrace me half so ill,
To set a form upon desired change,

As I'll myself disgrace; knowing thy will,
I will acquaintance strangle and look strange;
Be absent from thy walks; and in my tongue
Thy sweet beloved name no more shall dwell,
Lest I, too much profane, should do it wrong,
And haply of our old acquaintance tell.

For thee, against myself I'll vow debate,

For I must ne'er love him whom thou dost hate.

Say, Wine, that you forsook me for some fault, and I will comment upon (admit) that offence: Speak of my lameness (frailty) and I straight will halt (be or do as you say), against your reasons (charges) making no defence.

You cannot disgrace me half so ill, to set a form upon desired change (by making a formal excuse for change), as I will myself disgrace; knowing your will, I will acquaintance strangle, and look strange,

Be absent from your walks (haunts) and not speak your name, lest I should haply tell of our old acquaintance.

Against myself I'll take your part in debate (strife, contest), for I must not love him whom you hate. (I will not love myself, if you hate me.)

Shakespeare here defines the conditions which we have found to exist in the sonnets, namely: the absence of the name of wine, the espousal of its cause, in all discussions, the strangling of all acquaintanceship, his absence from its walks or haunts (none of which are ever mentioned), and his looking strange, lest he might profane it, or do it an injury. If he considered this sonnet as his pledge of fidelity and secrecy, he has kept is conscientiously.

SONNET 90.

Then hate me when thou wilt if ever, now;
Now, while the world is bent my deeds to cross,
Join with the spite of fortune, make me bow,
And do not drop in for an after-loss:

Ah, do not, when my heart hath 'scaped this sorrow,
Come in the rearward of a conquer'd woe;
Give not a windy night a rainy morrow,
To linger out a purposed overthrow.

If thou wilt leave me, do not leave me last,
When other petty griefs have done their spite,
But in the onset come: so shall I taste
At first the very worst of fortune's might;

And other strains of woe, which now seem woe,
Compared with loss of thee will not seem so.

If you are to hate me, Wine, hate me now, while the world is bent to cross my deeds, join with misfortune, make me bow (humble me), an do not drop in for an after-loss (do not come after all my sorrows): Ah, do not when my heart has scaped this sorrow (what sorrow?) come after I have conquered my woe; do not come as a rainy morrow after a windy night (do not follow sorrow with sorrow), to linger out a purposed overthrow (abandonment).

Do not leave me last when I have suffered other petty griefs, but come at first: so that I shall taste at first the worst that fortune has in store.

Other woes coming after loss of you, will not seem woes.

SONNET 91.

Some glory in their birth, some in their skill,
Some in their wealth, some in their body's force;
Some in their garments, though new-fangled ill;
Some in their hawks and hounds, some in their horse;
And every humour hath his adjunct pleasure,
Wherein it finds a joy above the rest:
But these particulars are not my measure;
All these I better in one general best.
Thy love is better than high birth to me,

Richer than wealth, prouder than garments' cost,
Of more delight than hawks or horses be;
And having thee, of all men's pride I boast:

Wretched in this alone, that thou mayst take
All this away and me most wretched make.

Some glory in their birth, some in their skill, some in their wealth, some in their body's force (strength); some in their garments; some in their hawks and hounds, some in their horse;

And every humour has its adjunct pleasure, wherein it finds a joy over the rest: but those particulars are not my measure (these are not the pleasures in which I delight); all these I better in one general best (Wine).

Your love, Wine, is better than high birth to me, richer than wealth, prouder than garments cost, of more delight than hawks or horses be; and having you, of all men's pride I boast (I have all that all men prize).

Wretched in this alone, that you may take all this away, and make me wretched.

SONNET 92.

But do thy worst to steal thyself away,
For term of life thou art assured mine;
And life no longer than thy love will stay,
For it depends upon that love of thine.
Then need I not to fear the worst of wrongs,
When in the least of them my life hath end.
I see a better state to me belongs

Than that which on thy humour doth depend:
Thou canst not vex me with inconstant mind,
Since that my life on thy revolt doth lie.
O, what a happy title do I find,

Happy to have thy love, happy to die!

But what's so blessed-fair that fears no blot?
Thou mayst be false, and yet I know it not.

But do your worst, O Wine, for you are assured to me for life; and life will stay no longer than your love, for it depends upon that love of yours.

Then I need not fear the worst of wrongs, when in the least of them (taking wine from me) my life has an end. A better state is mine (death), than is life, which depends on you:

You cannot vex me with your inconstant mind, since should you revolt death would ensue. How happy is my state, being happy in your love, happy to die!

But my happiness is not without fears, for you may be false, and I know it not.

This is the first sonnet in which Shakespeare has shown any defiance towards wine.

SONNET 93.

So shall I live, supposing thou art true,
Like a deceived husband; so love's face
May still seem love to me, though alter'd new;
Thy looks with me, thy heart in other place:
For there can live no hatred in thine eye,
Therefore in that I cannot know thy change.
In many's looks the false heart's history

Is writ in moods and frowns and wrinkles strange,
But heaven in thy creation did decree.

That in thy face sweet love should ever dwell;
Whate'er thy thoughts or thy heart's workings be,
Thy looks should nothing thence but sweetness tell.
How like Eve's apple doth thy beauty grow,

If thy sweet virtue answer not thy show.

So, Wine, shall I live, supposing you are true, like a deceived husband; so love's face though newly altered may still seem love; your looks with me, your heart in some other place:

For there can live no hatred in your eye, therefore by your looks I cannot know your change. In the looks of many the false heart's history is expressed in moods and frowns and wrinkles,

But heaven in your creation decreed that in your face love should forever dwell; whatever your thoughts or your heart's workings might be, your looks should indicate nothing but sweetness.

How like Eve's apple (temptation) does your beauty grow, if your virtue is not indicated by your show.