William Shakespeare

Sonnet 132: Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying me

Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying me, Knowing thy heart torment me with disdain, Have put on black, and loving mourners be, Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain. And truly not

Blow, Blow, Thou Winter Wind

Blow, blow, thou winter wind Thou art not so unkind As man’s ingratitude; Thy tooth is not so keen, Because thou art not seen, Although thy breath be rude. Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the

Sonnet 134: So, now I have confessed that he is thine

So, now I have confessed that he is thine, And I my self am mortgaged to thy will, Myself I’ll forfeit, so that other mine Thou wilt restore to be my comfort still. But

Sonnet 127: In the old age black was not counted fair

In the old age black was not counted fair, Or if it were, it bore not beauty’s name; But now is black beauty’s successive heir, And beauty slandered with a bastard shame. For since

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

Sonnet XV: When I consider everything that grows

When I consider everything that grows Holds in perfection but a little moment, That this huge stage presenteth nought but shows Whereon the stars in secret influence comment; When I perceive that men as

Sonnet 99: The forward violet thus did I chide

The forward violet thus did I chide: “Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells, If not from my love’s breath? The purple pride Which on thy soft check for complexion dwells

Sonnet 88: When thou shalt be disposed to set me light

When thou shalt be disposed to set me light And place my merit in the eye of scorn, Upon thy side, against myself I’ll fight, And prove thee virtuous, though thou art forsworn. With

Sonnet 142: Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate

Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate, Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving, O, but with mine, compare thou thine own state, And thou shalt find it merits not reproving,

Orpheus

? or John Fletcher. ORPHEUS with his lute made trees And the mountain tops that freeze Bow themselves when he did sing: To his music plants and flowers Ever sprung; as sun and showers

Sonnet 59: If there be nothing new, but that which is

If there be nothing new, but that which is Hath been before, how are our brains beguiled, Which, labouring for invention bear amis The second burthen of a former child! O, that record could

Sonnet 110: Alas, 'tis true, I have gone here and there

Alas, ’tis true, I have gone here and there, And made myself a motley to the view, Gored mine own thoughts, sold cheap what is most dear, Made old offences of affections new. Most

Sonnet CXXIII

No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change: Thy pyramids built up with newer might To me are nothing novel, nothing strange; They are but dressings of a former sight. Our dates

Sonnet 75: So are you to my thoughts as food to life

So are you to my thoughts as food to life, Or as sweet-seasoned showers are to the ground; And for the peace of you I hold such strife As ‘twixt a miser and his

Sonnets CX: Alas, 'tis true I have gone here and there

Alas, ’tis true I have gone here and there And made myself a motley to the view, Gor’d mine own thoughts, sold cheap what is most dear, Made old offences of affections new. Most