William Shakespeare University of Victoria Humanities Computing and Media Centre William Shakespeare London Isaac Jaggard and Edward Blount 1623 Sonnets. 130 MY Miſtres eyes are nothing like the Sunne, Currall is farre more red,then her lips red If ſnow be white,why then her breſts are dun: If haires be wiers,black wiers grown on her head: I haue ſeene Roſes damaskt,red and white, But no ſuch Roſes ſee I in her cheekes, And in ſome perfumes is there more delight, Then in the breath that from my Miſtres reekes. I loue to heare her ſpeake,yet well I know, That Muſicke hath a farre more pleaſing ſound: I graunt I neuer ſaw a goddeſſe goe, My Miſtres when ſhee walkes treads on the ground. And yet by heauen I think my loue as rare, As any ſhe beli'd with falſe compare.