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 […]