Sonnet 131

Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art,

As those whose beauties proudly make them cruel,

For well thou know’st to my dear doting heart

Thou art the fairest and most precious jewel.

Yet in good faith, some say, that thee behold,

Thy face hath not the power to make love groan;

To say they err I dare not be so bold,

Although I swear it to myself alone.

And to be sure that is not false, I swear

A thousand groans, but thinking on thy face;

One on another’s neck do witness bear

Thy black is fairest in my judgment’s place.

In nothing art thou black save in thy deeds,

And thence this slander as I think proceeds.

As proud and arbitrary as any

Whose beauty makes her uncaring,

You know I take you for jewelry

And am always waiting.

Yet some say—and I think being honest—

You have not the slightest same effect upon them.

They feel no groaning. I haven’t to these confessed

They are wrong, but I swear it all the time.

Or doubting myself, I double check my heart

By recalling your face and your figure,

And indeed I cannot count the ways I hurt.

There is something in you of a dark feature

That’s tantalizing. I can only fathom

Others are deterred by the way you treat them.