#EnglishWriters
No man is an island, Entire of itself; Every man is a piece of the contin… A part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the se…
Out of a fired ship, which by no w… But drowning could be rescued from… Some men leap’d forth, and ever as… Near the foes’ ships, did by their… So all were lost, which in the shi…
This is my play’s last scene; here… My pilgrimage’s last mile; and my… Idly, yet quickly run, hath this l… My span’s last inch, my minute’s l… And gluttonous death will instantl…
Thou hast made me, and shall thy w… Repair me now, for now mine end do… I run to death, and death meets me… And all my pleasures are like yest… I dare not move my dim eyes any wa…
Where, like a pillow on a bed A pregnant bank swell’d up to rest The violet’s reclining head, Sat we two, one another’s best. Our hands were firmly cemented
Now thou has loved me one whole da… Tomorrow when you leav’st, what wi… Wilt thou then antedate some new—m… Or say that now We are not just those persons whic…
Oh, to vex me, contraries meet in… Inconstancy unnaturally hath begot A constant habit; that when I wou… I change in vows, and in devotion. As humorous is my contrition
Show me dear Christ, thy spouse s… What! is it she which on the other… Goes richly painted? or which, rob… Laments and mourns in Germany and… Sleeps she a thousand, then peeps…
Go and catch a falling star, Get with child a mandrake root, Tell me where all past years are, Or who cleft the devil’s foot, Teach me to hear mermaids singing,
Our storm is past, and that storm’… A stupid calm, but nothing it, dot… The fable is inverted, and far mor… A block afflicts, now, than a stor… Storms chafe, and soon wear out th…
Kind pity chokes my spleen; brave… Those tears to issue which swell m… I must not laugh, nor weep sins an… Can railing, then, cure these worn… Is not our mistress, fair Religio…
For God’s sake hold your tongue,… Or chide my palsy, or my gout, My five gray hairs, or ruined fort… With wealth your state, your mind… Take you a course, get you a place…
I am two fools, I know, For loving, and for saying so In whining poetry; But where’s that wiseman, that wou… If she would not deny?
Here take my picture; though I bi… Thine, in my heart, where my soul… ‘Tis like me now, but I dead, ’tw… When we are shadows both, than 'tw… When weather—beaten I come back,…
Busy old fool, unruly sun, Why dost thou thus, Through windows, and through curta… Must to thy motions lovers’ season… Saucy pedantic wretch, go chide
