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INDEX OF FIRST LINES

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 takes delight
As an unperfect actor on the stage

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As fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou growest

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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.

Canst 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 paws
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

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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

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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.

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How sweet and lovely dost thou make the shame

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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

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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,

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Look in thy glass, and tell the face thou viewest
Lord, how mine eyes throw gazes to the east.

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Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage
Love is my sin and thy dear virtue hate

Love, Love, nothing but Love, still more.

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Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war

Mine eye hath play'd the painter, and hath stell'd.

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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

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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.

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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

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O, for my sake do you with fortune chide

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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
how thy worth with manners may I sing

O, lest the world should task you to recite

O me, what hath Love put in

eyes

my

head

O Mistress mine, where are you roaming
On a day-alack the day

O, never say that I was false of heart
Or I shall live your epitaph to make.
Orpheus with his lute made trees.

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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

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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

mine eye is in
you,

my

mind

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Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea
Since I left
Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eye
Sleepest or wakest thou, jolly shepherd
So am I as the rich, whose blessed 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 said.

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

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Thou blind fool, Love, what dost thou to mine eyes
Thus can my love excuse the slow offence.

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Thus is his cheek the map of days outworn

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Thy bosom is endear'd with all hearts

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Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brain.

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Thy glass will show thee how thy beauties wear
Tired with all these, for restful death I
'Tis better to be vile than vile esteem'd
To me, fair friend, you never can behold
Two loves have I of comfort and despair

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Under the greenwood tree

Unthrifty loveliness, why dost thou spend.

Was it the proud full sail of his great verse
Was this fair face the cause, quoth she.
Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed.
Wedding is great Juno's crown

Were't aught to me I bore the canopy.

What is your substance? whereof are you made

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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, thou 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.

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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
Your love and pity doth the impression fill

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