#English #XVICentury #XVIICentury
As fast as thou shalt wane, so fas… In one of thine, from that which t… And that fresh blood which youngly… Thou mayst call thine when thou fr… Herein lives wisdom, beauty, and i…
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…
For shame, deny that thou bear’st… Who for thy self art so unproviden… Grant, if thou wilt, thou art belo… But that thou none lov’st is most… For thou art so possessed with mur…
When I consider everything that g… Holds in perfection but a little m… That this huge stage presenteth no… Whereon the stars in secret influe… When I perceive that men as plant…
Farewell!—God knows when we shall… I have a faint cold fear thrills t… That almost freezes up the heat of… I’ll call them back again to comfo… Nurse!—What should she do here?
Thy gift, thy tables, are within m… Full charactered with lasting memo… Which shall above that idle rank r… Beyond all date even to eternity— Or at the least, so long as brain…
How can I then return in happy pl… That am debarred the benefit of re… When day’s oppression is not eased… But day by night, and night by day… And each, though enemies to either…
Come away, come away, death, And in sad cypress let me be laid. Fly away, fly away, breath; I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white, stuck all with…
ON a day—alack the day!— Love, whose month is ever May, Spied a blossom passing fair Playing in the wanton air: Through the velvet leaves the wind
O, that you were your self! But,… No longer yours than you yourself… Against this coming end you should… And your sweet semblance to some o… So should that beauty which you ho…
Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend… I come to bury Caesar, not to pra… The evil that men do lives after t… The good is oft interred with thei… So let it be with Caesar. The nob…
When forty winters shall beseige t… And dig deep trenches in thy beaut… Thy youth’s proud livery, so gazed… Will be a tatter’d weed, of small… Then being ask’d where all thy bea…
To be, or not to be: that is the q… Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to… The slings and arrows of outrageou… Or to take arms against a sea of t… And by opposing end them? To die:…
How oft, when thou, my music, musi… Upon that blessèd wood whose motio… With thy sweet fingers when thou g… The wiry concord that mine ear con… Do I envy those jacks that nimble…
Those pretty wrongs that liberty c… When I am sometime absent from th… Thy beauty and thy years full well… For still temptation follows where… Gentle thou art, and therefore to…