Sonnet 47
In pride of wit, when high desire of fame Gaue life and courage to my labouring pen, And first the sound and vertue of my name, Won grace and credit in the eares of men: With those the thronged Theaters that presse, I in the circuite for the Lawrell stroue, Where the full praise I freely must confesse, In heate of blood a modest minde might moue: With showts and daps at euerie little pawse, When the prowd round on euerie side hath rung, Sadly I sit vnmou'd with the applawse, As though to me it nothing did belong: No publique glorie vainely I pursue, The praise I striue, is to eternize you.
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"In pride of wit, when high desire of fame..."
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