| 20 |
A woman's face
with Nature's
own hand painted |
|
| 117 |
Accuse me thus:
that I have
scanted all |
|
| 63 |
Against my love
shall be, as
I am now, |
|
| 49 |
Against that
time, if ever that
time come, |
|
| 67 |
Ah! wherefore
with infection
should he live, |
|
| 103 |
Alack, what
poverty my Muse
brings forth, |
|
| 110 |
Alas, 'tis true
I have gone
here and there |
|
| 37 |
As a
decrepit father takes
delight |
|
| 23 |
As an
unperfect actor on
the stage |
|
| 11 |
As fast as thou
shalt wane,
so fast thou growest |
|
| 140 |
Be wise as thou
art cruel;
do not press |
|
| 57 |
Being your
slave, what should
I do but tend |
|
| 133 |
Beshrew that
heart that makes
my heart to groan |
|
| 47 |
Betwixt mine
eye and heart
a league is took, |
|
| 74 |
But be
contented: when that
fell arrest |
|
| 92 |
But do thy worst
to steal thyself
away, |
|
| 16 |
But wherefore
do not you a
mightier way |
|
| 149 |
Canst thou, O
cruel! say I
love thee not, |
|
| 153 |
Cupid laid by
his brand, and
fell asleep: |
|
| 19 |
Devouring Time,
blunt thou
the lion's paws, |
|
| 87 |
Farewell! thou
art too dear
for my possessing, |
|
| 10 |
For shame! deny
that thou bear'st
love to any, |
|
| 1 |
From fairest
creatures we desire
increase, |
|
| 98 |
From you have I
been absent
in the spring, |
|
| 33 |
Full many a
glorious morning
have I seen |
|
| 28 |
How can I
then return in
happy plight, |
|
| 38 |
How can my
Muse want subject
to invent, |
|
| 48 |
How careful
was I, when
I took my way, |
|
| 50 |
How heavy do I
journey on the
way, |
|
| 97 |
How like a
winter hath my absence
been |
|
| 128 |
How oft, when
thou, my music,
music play'st, |
|
| 95 |
How sweet and
lovely dost thou
make the shame |
|
| 82 |
I grant thou
wert not married
to my Muse |
|
| 83 |
I never saw that
you did painting
need |
|
| 124 |
If my dear love
were but the
child of state, |
|
| 44 |
If the dull
substance of my
flesh were thought, |
|
| 59 |
If there be
nothing new, but
that which is |
|
| 32 |
If thou
survive my well-contented
day, |
|
| 136 |
If thy soul
check thee that
I come so near, |
|
| 141 |
In faith, I do
not love thee
with mine eyes, |
|
| 152 |
In loving thee
thou know'st
I am forsworn, |
|
| 127 |
In the old days black was not
counted fair |
|
| 9 |
Is it for fear
to wet a widow's
eye |
|
| 61 |
Is it thy will
thy image should
keep open |
|
| 36 |
Let me
confess that we two
must be twain, |
|
| 116 |
Let me not to
the marriage
of true minds |
|
| 105 |
Let not my love
be call'd idolatry, |
|
| 25 |
Let those who
are in favour
with their stars |
|
| 60 |
Like as the
waves make towards
the pebbled shore, |
|
| 118 |
Like as to make
our appetites more
keen |
|
| 143 |
Lo! as a
careful housewife
runs to catch |
|
| 7 |
Lo! in the
orient when the
gracious light |
|
| 3 |
Look in thy
glass, and tell
the face thou viewest |
|
| 26 |
Lord of my
love, to whom in
vassalage |
|
| 142 |
Love is my sin
and thy dear
virtue hate, |
|
| 151 |
Love is too
young to know what
conscience is; |
|
| 46 |
Mine eye and
heart are at
a mortal war |
|
| 24 |
Mine eye hath
play'd the painter
and hath stell'd |
|
| 8 |
Music to hear,
why hear'st
thou music sadly? |
|
| 22 |
My glass shall
not persuade
me I am old, |
|
| 147 |
My love is as a
fever, longing
still |
|
| 102 |
My love is
strengthen'd, though
more weak in seeming; |
|
| 130 |
My mistress'
eyes are nothing
like the sun; |
|
| 85 |
My tongue-tied
Muse in manners
holds her still, |
|
| 71 |
No longer mourn
for me when
I am dead |
|
| 35 |
No more be
grieved at that
which thou hast done: |
|
| 123 |
No, Time, thou
shalt not boast
that I do change: |
|
| 14 |
Not from the
stars do I my
judgment pluck; |
|
| 55 |
Not marble, nor
the gilded monuments |
|
| 107 |
Not mine own
fears, nor the
prophetic soul |
|
| 148 |
O me, what eyes
hath Love put
in my head, |
|
| 126 |
O thou, my
lovely boy, who
in thy power |
|
| 101 |
O truant Muse,
what shall be
thy amends |
|
| 139 |
O, call not me
to justify the
wrong |
|
| 111 |
O, for my sake
do you with
Fortune chide, |
|
| 150 |
O, from what
power hast thou
this powerful might |
|
| 80 |
O, how I faint
when I of you
do write, |
|
| 54 |
O, how much more
doth beauty
beauteous seem |
|
| 39 |
O, how thy
worth with manners
may I sing, |
|
| 72 |
O, lest the
world should task
you to recite |
|
| 109 |
O, never say
that I was false
of heart, |
|
| 13 |
O, that you
were yourself!
but, love, you are |
|
| 81 |
Or I shall live
your epitaph
to make, |
|
| 114 |
Or whether doth
my mind, being
crown'd with you, |
|
| 146 |
Poor soul, the
centre of my
sinful earth, |
|
| 89 |
Say that thou
didst forsake
me for some fault, |
|
| 18 |
Shall I
compare thee to a
summer's day? |
|
| 62 |
Sin of self-love
possesseth
all mine eye |
|
| 65 |
Since brass, nor
stone, nor
earth, nor boundless sea, |
|
| 113 |
Since I left
you, mine eye
is in my mind; |
|
| 52 |
So am I as the
rich, whose blessed
key |
|
| 75 |
So are you to my
thoughts as
food to life, |
|
| 21 |
So is it not
with me as with
that Muse |
|
| 78 |
So oft have I
invoked thee for
my Muse |
|
| 93 |
So shall I live,
supposing thou
art true, |
|
| 134 |
So,now I have
confessed that
he is thine, |
|
| 91 |
Some glory in
their birth, some
in their skill, |
|
| 96 |
Some say thy
fault is youth,
some wantonness; |
|
| 56 |
Sweet love,
renew thy force;
be it not said |
|
| 40 |
Take all my
loves, my love,
yea, take them all; |
|
| 58 |
That god forbid
that made me
first your slave, |
|
| 70 |
That thou art
blamed shall not
be thy defect, |
|
| 42 |
That thou hast
her, it is
not all my grief, |
|
| 73 |
That time of
year thou mayst
in me behold |
|
| 120 |
That you were
once unkind befriends
me now, |
|
| 129 |
The expense of
spirit in a
waste of shame |
|
| 99 |
The forward
violet thus did
I chide: |
|
| 154 |
The little
Love-god lying once
asleep |
|
| 45 |
The other two,
slight air and
purging fire, |
|
| 90 |
Then hate me
when thou wilt;
if ever, now; |
|
| 6 |
Then let not
winter's ragged
hand deface |
|
| 94 |
They that have
power to hurt
and will do none, |
|
| 132 |
Thine eyes I
love, and they,
as pitying me, |
|
| 5 |
Those hours, that
with gentle
work did frame |
|
| 115 |
Those lines
that I before have
writ do lie, |
|
| 145 |
Those lips that
Love's own
hand did make |
|
| 69 |
Those parts of
thee that the
world's eye doth view |
|
| 41 |
Those pretty
wrongs that liberty
commits, |
|
| 131 |
Thou art as
tyrannous, so as
thou art, |
|
| 137 |
Thou blind
fool, Love, what
dost thou to mine eyes, |
|
| 51 |
Thus can my love
excuse the
slow offence |
|
| 68 |
Thus is his
cheek the map of
days outworn, |
|
| 31 |
Thy bosom is
endeared with
all hearts, |
|
| 122 |
Thy gift, thy
tables, are within
my brain |
|
| 77 |
Thy glass will
show thee how
thy beauties wear, |
|
| 66 |
Tired with all
these, for restful
death I cry, |
|
| 121 |
'Tis better to
be vile than
vile esteem'd, |
|
| 104 |
To me, fair
friend, you never
can be old, |
|
| 144 |
Two loves I
have of comfort
and despair, |
|
| 4 |
Unthrifty
loveliness, why dost
thou spend |
|
| 86 |
Was it the proud
full sail of
his great verse, |
|
| 27 |
Weary with
toil, I haste
me to my bed, |
|
| 125 |
Were 't aught
to me I bore
the canopy, |
|
| 53 |
What is your
substance, whereof
are you made, |
|
| 119 |
What potions
have I drunk of
Siren tears, |
|
| 108 |
What's in the
brain that ink
may character |
|
| 2 |
When forty
winters shall beseige
thy brow, |
|
| 15 |
When I consider
every thing
that grows |
|
| 12 |
When I do count
the clock that
tells the time, |
|
| 64 |
When I have seen
by Time's fell
hand defaced |
|
| 106 |
When in the
chronicle of wasted
time |
|
| 43 |
When most I
wink, then do
mine eyes best see, |
|
| 138 |
When my love
swears that she
is made of truth |
|
| 88 |
When thou shalt
be disposed
to set me light, |
|
| 30 |
When to the
sessions of sweet
silent thought |
|
| 29 |
When, in
disgrace with fortune
and men's eyes, |
|
| 100 |
Where art thou,
Muse, that
thou forget'st so long |
|
| 79 |
Whilst I alone
did call upon
thy aid, |
|
| 84 |
Who is it that
says most? which
can say more |
|
| 17 |
Who will
believe my verse
in time to come, |
|
| 135 |
Whoever hath
her wish, thou
hast thy 'Will,' |
|
| 34 |
Why didst
thou promise such
a beauteous day, |
|
| 76 |
Why is my verse
so barren of
new pride, |
|
| 112 |
Your love and
pity doth the
impression fill |
|
HAKESPEARE'S 
