I really like this sonnet because he is saying that he is not like that poet that praises with proud words of a lady just because she is pretty, but since he is really in love he will write with truth. She pretty, but he will not write proudly to sell his poem.
So is it not with me as with that muse,
Stirred by a painted beauty to his verse,
Who heav'n itself for ornament doth use,
And every fair with his fair doth rehearse—
Making a couplement of proud compare
With sun and moon, with earth and sea’s rich gems,
With April’s first-born flow'rs, and all things rare
That heaven’s air in this huge rondure hems.
O let me, true in love but truly write,
And then believe me: my love is as fair
As any mother’s child, though not so bright
As those gold candles fixed in heaven’s air.
Let them say more that like of hearsay well;
I will not praise that purpose not to sell.