Author: William Shakespeare

Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying me, Knowing thy heart torment me with disdain, Have put on black, […]

Blow, blow, thou winter wind Thou art not so unkind As man’s ingratitude; Thy tooth is not so keen, Because […]

So, now I have confessed that he is thine, And I my self am mortgaged to thy will, Myself I’ll […]

In the old age black was not counted fair, Or if it were, it bore not beauty’s name; But now […]

FROM fairest creatures we desire increase, That thereby beauty’s rose might never die, But as the riper should by time […]

When I consider everything that grows Holds in perfection but a little moment, That this huge stage presenteth nought but […]

The forward violet thus did I chide: “Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells, If not from […]

When thou shalt be disposed to set me light And place my merit in the eye of scorn, Upon thy […]

Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate, Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving, O, but with […]

? or John Fletcher. ORPHEUS with his lute made trees And the mountain tops that freeze Bow themselves when he […]

If there be nothing new, but that which is Hath been before, how are our brains beguiled, Which, labouring for […]

Alas, ’tis true, I have gone here and there, And made myself a motley to the view, Gored mine own […]

No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change: Thy pyramids built up with newer might To me are […]

So are you to my thoughts as food to life, Or as sweet-seasoned showers are to the ground; And for […]

Alas, ’tis true I have gone here and there And made myself a motley to the view, Gor’d mine own […]

So is it not with me as with that muse, Stirred by a painted beauty to his verse, Who heaven […]

No longer mourn for me when I am dead Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell Give warning to […]

As an unperfect actor on the stage Who with his fear is put beside his part, Or some fierce thing […]

Full many a glorious morning have I seen Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye, Kissing with golden face the meadows […]

Like as the waves make towards the pebbl’d shore, So do our minutes hasten to their end; Each changing place […]

Against my love shall be, as I am now, With Time’s injurious hand crush’d and o’er-worn; When hours have drain’d […]

What is your substance, whereof are you made, That millions of strange shadows on you tend? Since every one hath, […]

Mine eye hath played the painter and hath stelled Thy beauty’s form in table of my heart; My body is […]

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the […]

ON a day alack the day! Love, whose month is ever May, Spied a blossom passing fair Playing in the […]

In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes, For they in thee a thousand errors note; But ’tis […]

Let the bird of loudest lay, On the sole Arabian tree, Herald sad and trumpet be, To whose sound chaste […]

How can my Muse want subject to invent While thou dost breathe, that pour’st into my verse Thine own sweet […]

That you were once unkind befriends me now, And for that sorrow, which I then did feel, Needs must I […]

So is it not with me as with that Muse Stirr’d by a painted beauty to his verse, Who heaven […]