#English #XVICentury #XVIICentury
How like a winter hath my absence… From thee, the pleasure of the fle… What freezings have I felt, what… What old December’s bareness ever… And yet this time remov’d was summ…
URNS and odours bring away! Vapours, sighs, darken the day! Our dole more deadly looks than dy… Balms and gums and heavy cheers… Sacred vials fill’d with tears,
A woman’s face with Nature’s own… Hast thou, the master-mistress of… A woman’s gentle heart, but not ac… With shifting change, as is false… An eye more bright than theirs, le…
From you have I been absent in th… When proud pied April, dressed in… Hath put a spirit of youth in ever… That heavy Saturn laughed and lea… Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the…
Sweet love, renew thy force; be it… Thy edge should blunter be than ap… Which but to—day by feeding is all… To—morrow sharpened in his former… So, love, be thou, although to—day…
But be contented when that fell ar… Without all bail shall carry me aw… My life hath in this line some int… Which for memorial still with thee… When thou reviewest this, thou dos…
Your love and pity doth th’ impres… Which vulgar scandal stamped upon… For what care I who calls me well… So you o’ergreen my bad, my good a… You are my all the world, and I m…
My love is as a fever, longing sti… For that which longer nurseth the… Feeding on that which doth preserv… The uncertain sickly appetite to p… My reason, the physician to my lov…
When my love swears that she is ma… I do believe her, though I know s… That she might think me some untut… Unskilful in the world’s false for… Thus vainly thinking that she thin…
Two loves I have, of comfort and… Which like two spirits do suggest… The better angel is a man right fa… The worser spirit a woman coloured… To win me soon to hell, my female…
Be wise as thou art cruel; do not… My tongue-tied patience with too m… Lest sorrow lend me words and word… The manner of my pity-wanting pain… If I might teach thee wit, better…
No, Time, thou shalt not boast th… Thy pyramids built up with newer m… To me are nothing novel, nothing s… They are but dressings of a former… Our dates are brief, and therefore…
Mine eye hath played the painter a… Thy beauty’s form in table of my h… My body is the frame wherein ’tis… And perspective that is best paint… For through the painter must you s…
Thy bosom is endeared with all hea… Which I by lacking have supposed… And there reigns Love, and all Lo… And all those friends which I tho… How many a holy and obsequious tea…
Music to hear, why hear’st thou mu… Sweets with sweets war not, joy de… Why lov’st thou that which thou re… Or else receiv’st with pleasure th… If the true concord of well-tunèd…
