Sonnet 141

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 invited

To any sensual feast with thee alone.

But my five wits nor my five senses can

Dissuade 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.

Truly, I don’t love you with my eyes.

I see untold flaws there.

Somehow, my heart loves what otherwise

They would, I think, abjure.

Not even my ears are happy with you.

Nor would I touch you, for body alone.

I don’t like the taste enough, or the scent, to pursue

You in the interest of desire’s crown.

But my five bodies, and all their impressions,

Are mute, paralyzed, tasteless, invisible

In the space of my sensuous heart, which shuns

Their retreats and runs to embrace you like a fool.

The only sensation that’s my saving grace

Is the pain you cause when you avert your face.