Sonnet CXLVII
My love is as a fever, longing still For that which longer nurseth the disease, Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill, The uncertain sickly appetite to please. My reason, the physician to
Sonnet CXL
Be wise as thou art cruel; do not press My tongue-tied patience with too much disdain; Lest sorrow lend me words and words express The manner of my pity-wanting pain. If I might teach
Sonnet V
Those hours, that with gentle work did frame The lovely gaze where every eye doth dwell, Will play the tyrants to the very same And that unfair which fairly doth excel: For never-resting time
Sonnets xvi
WHEN in the chronicle of wasted time I see descriptions of the fairest wights, And beauty making beautiful old rime In praise of Ladies dead and lovely Knights; Then, in the blazon of sweet
Sonnet LXV
Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea, But sad mortality o’er-sways their power, How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea, Whose action is no stronger than a flower? O, how
Sonnet 133: Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan
Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan For that deep wound it gives my friend and me! Is’t not enough to torture me alone, But slave to slavery my sweet’st friend must
Sonnet 109: O, never say that I was false of heart
O, never say that I was false of heart, Though absence seemed my flame to qualify. As easy might I from my self depart As from my soul which in thy breast doth lie.
Sonnet XVI
But wherefore do not you a mightier way Make war upon this bloody tyrant, Time? And fortify yourself in your decay With means more blessed than my barren rhyme? Now stand you on the
Sonnet 129: Th' expense of spirit in a waste of shame
Th’ expense of spirit in a waste of shame Is lust in action; and, till action, lust Is perjured, murderous, bloody full of blame, Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust, Enjoyed no sooner
Sonnet 122: Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brain
Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brain Full charactered with lasting memory, Which shall above that idle rank remain Beyond all date even to eternity- Or at the least, so long as brain
Sonnet CX
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 144: Two loves I have, of comfort and despair
Two loves I have, of comfort and despair, Which like two spirits do suggest me still: The better angel is a man right fair, The worser spirit a woman coloured ill. To win me
Sonnet 56: Sweet love, renew thy force, be it not said
Sweet love, renew thy force! Be it not said Thy edge should blunter be than appetite, Which but today by feeding is allayed, Tomorrow sharpened in his former might. So, love, be thou, although
Sonnet LI
Thus can my love excuse the slow offence Of my dull bearer when from thee I speed: From where thou art why should I haste me thence? Till I return, of posting is no
Sonnet CXXXVIII
When my love swears that she is made of truth I do believe her, though I know she lies, That she might think me some untutor’d youth, Unlearned in the world’s false subtleties. Thus