Synopsis:

The poet accuses himself of supreme vanity in that he thinks so highly of himself. He then admits that the “self” he holds in such esteem is not his physical self but his “other self,” the beloved.

 
Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eye
And all my soul and all my every part;
And for this sin there is no remedy,
4It is so grounded inward in my heart.
Methinks no face so gracious is as mine,
No shape so true, no truth of such account,
And for myself mine own worth do define
8As I all other in all worths surmount.
But when my glass shows me myself indeed
Beated and chopped with tanned antiquity,
Mine own self-love quite contrary I read;
12Self so self-loving were iniquity.
 ’Tis thee, myself, that for myself I praise,
 Painting my age with beauty of thy days.

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