<Table> <Tr> <Th_colspan="2">" Sonnet 1 </Th> </Tr> <Tr> <Td_colspan="2"> Sonnet 1 in the 1609 Quarto </Td> </Tr> <Tr> <Td_colspan="2"> </Td> </Tr> <Tr> <Td_colspan="2"> <Table> <Tr> <Td> <P> Q1 Q2 Q3 </P> </Td> <Td> <P> From fairest creatures we desire increase, That thereby beauty's rose might never die, But as the riper should by time decease, His tender heir might bear his memory: But thou, contracted to thine own bright eyes, Feed'st thy light's flame with self - substantial fuel, Making a famine where abundance lies, Thyself thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel . Thou that art now the world's fresh ornament And only herald to the gaudy spring, Within thine own bud buriest thy content And, tender churl, mak'st waste in niggarding . Pity the world, or else this glutton be, To eat the world's due, by the grave and thee . </P> </Td> <Td> <P> 8 12 14 </P> </Td> </Tr> <Tr> <Td> </Td> <Td>--William Shakespeare </Td> <Td> </Td> </Tr> </Table> </Td> </Tr> </Table> <Tr> <Th_colspan="2">" Sonnet 1 </Th> </Tr>

Thy self thy foe to thy sweet self too cruel
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