Sonnet CXLI

William Shakespeare (1564–1616) · 1609

iambic pentameter · English sonnet · 14 lines · from The Sonnets

In faith I do not love thee with mine eyes,For they in thee a thousand errors note;But ’tis my heart that loves what they despise,Who, in despite of view, is pleased to dote.Nor are mine ears with thy tongue’s tune delighted;Nor tender feeling, to base touches prone,Nor taste, nor smell, desire to be invitedTo any sensual feast with thee alone:But my five wits nor my five senses canDissuade one foolish heart from serving thee,Who leaves unsway’d the likeness of a man,Thy proud heart’s slave and vassal wretch to be:Only my plague thus far I count my gain,That she that makes me sin awards me pain.

Words in this poem

despise v. t.
To look down upon with disfavor or contempt; to contemn; to scorn; to disdain; to have a low opinion or contemptuous dislike of. [OF. despis-, in some forms of despire to despise, fr. L. despicere, despectum, to look down upon, despise; de- + spicere, specere, to look. See Spy, and cf. Des]
dote n.
A marriage portion. See 1st Dot, n. Wyatt. [See Dot dowry.]
delighted a.
Endowed with delight.
dissuade v. t.
To advise or exhort against; to try to persuade (one from a course). [L. dissuadere, dissuasum; dis- + suadere to advise, persuade: cf. F. dissuader. See Suasion.]

Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.

About this text

Sonnet CXLI is in the public domain. This text is taken from Shakespeare's Sonnets, Project Gutenberg ebook #1041; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.

Cite as: William Shakespeare, Sonnet CXLI, in The Sonnets (1609), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #1041, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/shakespeare-sonnets/sonnet-141.html, id L00159.

Form and metre

Sonnet CXLI is 14 lines in a single stanza. It rhymes ABABCDCDEFEFGG, the pattern of the English sonnet. The metre is iambic pentameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 88%). 100% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 10.1 syllables. 2 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 14% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.

See other English sonnets, other poems in iambic pentameter.

Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.

Rhyme words, stanza by stanza

The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.

  1. 1 ABABCDCDEFEFGG eyesA · noteB · despiseA · doteB · delightedC · proneD · invitedC · aloneD · canE · theeF · manE · beF · gainG · painG
Scansion, line by line

Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic pentameter. How this is done.

LineSyl.Stress
In faith I do not love thee with mine eyes,10··········
For they in thee a thousand errors note;10·····/˘/˘·
But ’tis my heart that loves what they despise,10········˘/
Who, in despite of view, is pleased to dote.10··˘/······
Nor are mine ears with thy tongue’s tune delighted;11········˘/˘
Nor tender feeling, to base touches prone,10·/˘/˘··/˘·
Nor taste, nor smell, desire to be invited11····˘/··˘/˘
To any sensual feast with thee alone:10·/˘/˘···˘/
But my five wits nor my five senses can10·······/˘·
Dissuade one foolish heart from serving thee,10˘/·/˘··/˘·
Who leaves unsway’d the likeness of a man,10··˘/·/˘···
Thy proud heart’s slave and vassal wretch to be:10·····/˘···
Only my plague thus far I count my gain,10/˘········
That she that makes me sin awards me pain.10······˘/··

The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.

More by William Shakespeare