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Accuse me thus: that I have scanted all
Against my Love shall be, as I am now
Against that time, if ever that time come
Ah! wherefore with infection should he live
Alack, what poverty my Muse brings forth
Alas, 'tis true I have gone here and there
Art thou, god, to shepherd turn'd
As a decrepit father iakes delight
As an unperfect actor on the stage
As fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou growest
Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good.
Being your slave, what should I do but tend
Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan
Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is took
Be wise as thou art cruel ; do not press
Blow, blow, thou winter wind
But be contented: when that fell arrest
But do thy worst to steal thyself away.
But wherefore do not you a mightier way.
C:inst thou, O cruel ! say I love thee not
Come away, come away, Death
Come o'er the bourn, Bessy, to me
Come, thou Monarch of the vine.
Come unto these yellow sands.
Crabbéd Age and Youth cannot live together.
Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion's
Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye
Do nothing but eat, and make good cheer.
Fair is my Love, but not so fair as fickle
Farewell ! thou art too dear for my possessing
Fathers that wear rags
Fear no more the heat o' the sun
Fie on sinful fantasy
For shame ! deny that thou bear'st love to any
From fairest creatures we desire increase
Full many a glorious morning have I seen
From off a hill whose concave womb re-worded.
From you have I been absent in the Spring
Full fathom five thy father lies
Get you hence, for I must go
Good night, good rest. Ah, neither be my share
Hang there, my verse, in witness of my love.
Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings.
Honour, riches, marriage-blessing
How can I then return in happy plight.
How can my muse want subject to invent.
How careful was I, when I took my way.
How heavy do I journey on the way
How like a winter hath my absence been
How oft, when thou, my music, music play'st
How should I your true-Love knɔw.
How sweet and lovely dost thou make the shame
I grant thou wert not married to my Muse .
I never saw that you did painting need
If love make me forsworn, how shall I swear to love
If my dear love were but the child of state
If she be made of white and red.
If the dull substance of my flesh were thought
If there be nothing new, but that which is
If thou survive my well-contented day.
If thy soul check thee that I come so near
Immortal gods, I crave no pelf
In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes
In loving thee thou know'st I am forsworn
In the old age black was not counted fair
Is it for fear to wet a widow's eye
Is it thy will thy image should keep open .
It was a Lover and his Lass
Lawn as white as driven snow .
Let me confess that we two must be twain
Let me not to the marriage of true minds .
Let not my love be call'd idolatry
Let the bird of loudest lay
Let those who are in favour with their stars
Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore
Like as, to make our appetites more keen
Lo! as a careful housewife runs to catch
Lo! in the orient when the gracious light :
Look in thy glass, and tell the face thou viewest
Lord, how mine eyes throw gazes to the east.
Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage
Love is my sin and thy dear virtue hate
Love, Love, nothing but Love, still more .
Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war
Mine eye hath play'd the painter, and hath stelld.
Music to hear, why hear'st thou music sadly.
My glass shall not persuade me I am old .
My love is as a fever, longing still
My love is strengthen'd, though more weak in seeming
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun
My tongue-tied Muse in manners holds her still.
No longer mourn for me when I am dead.
No more be grieved at that which thou hast done
Not from the stars do I my judgment pluck
No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change
Not marble, nor the gilded monuments.
Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul
Now the hungry lion roars
O, call not me to justify the wrong
O, for my sake do you with fortune chide
O, from what power hast thou this powerful might
O, how I faint when I of you do write.
O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem
o, how thy worth with manners may I sing
0, lest the world should task you to recite
eyes hath Love put in my head
O Mistress mine, where are you roaming
On a day-alack the day
0, never say that I was false of heart
Or I shall live your epitaph to make
Orpheus with his lute made trees .
Or whether doth my mind, being crown'd with you
O, that you were yourself! but, Love, you are
O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power.
O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends.
Over hill, over dale
Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth
Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day
Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more
Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea
Since I left you, mine eye is in my mind
Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eye
Sleepest or wakest thou, jolly shepherd
So am I as the rich, whose blesséd key
So are you to my thoughts as food to life
So is it not with me as with that Muse
Some glory in their birth, some in their skill
Some say thy fault is youth, some wantonness
So oft have I invoked thee for my Muse
So, now I have confess'd that he is thine
So shall I live, supposing thou art true .
So sweet a kiss the golden sun gives not
Study me how to please the eye indeed
Sweet Flower, with flowers thy bridal bed I strew
Sweet Love, renew thy force; be it not sa d.
Sweet Mistress,-what your name is else, I know not.
Sweet Rose, fair Flower, untimely pluck'd, soon vaded
Take all my loves, my Love, yea, take them all
Take, O, take these lips away ·
Tell me where is Fancy bred
That god forbid that made me first your slave
That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect.
That thou hast her, it is not all my grief
That time of year thou mayst in me behold
That you were once unkind befriends me now
The expense of spirit in a waste of shame.
The forward violet thus did I chide
The master, the swabber, the boatswain and I
The other two, slight air and purging fire .
Then hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now
Then is there mirth in Heaven.
Then let not winter's ragged hand deface
They bore him barefaced on the bier
They that have power to hurt and will do none.
Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying me
Those hours, that with gentle work did frame
Those lines that I before have writ do lie
Those lips that Love's own hand did make
Those parts of thee that the world's eye doth view.
Those petty wrongs that liberty commits
Thou art as tyranncus, so as thou art
Thou blind fool, Love, what do st thou to mine eyes
Thus can my love excuse the slow offence.
Thus is his cheek the map of days outworn
Thy bosom is endear'd with all hearts
Thy gift, thy tables, are within my
What potions have I drunk of Siren tears .
What shall he have that kill'd the deer .
What's in the brain that ink may character
When daffodils begin to peer
When daisies pied and violets blue
When forty winters shall besiege thy brow
When I consider every thing that grows
When I do count the clock that tells the time
When I have seen by Time's fell hand defaced.
When icicles hang by the wall.
When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes
When in the chronicle of wasted time
When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see
When my Love swears that she is made of truth
When that I was and a little tiny boy.
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought.
When thou shalt be disposed to set me light
Where art thou, Muse, that thou forget'st so long
Where the bee sucks, there suck I
Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid.
Whoever hath her wish, thu hast thy 'Will'
Whose is it that says most? which can say more.
Why is my verse so barren of new pride
Who is Silvia? what is She
Who will believe my verse in time to come
Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day
Why, let the stricken deer go weep
You spotted snakes with double tongue
Yuur love and pity doth the impression fill