by William Shakespeare
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 thee wit better… Read the rest
Category: William Shakespeare
Sonnet 141
by William Shakespeare
In faith I do not love thee with mine eyes, For they in thee a thousand errors note, But 'tis my heart that loves what they despise, Who in despite of view is pleased to dote. Nor… Read the rest
Sonnet 128
by William Shakespeare
How oft when thou, my music, music play'st, Upon that blessed wood whose motion sounds With thy sweet fingers when thou gently sway'st The wiry concord that mine ear confounds, Do I envy those jacks that nimble… Read the rest
Sonnet 129
by William Shakespeare
Th' expense of spirit in a waste of shame Is lust in action, and till action, lust Is perjured, murd'rous, bloody full of blame, Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust, Enjoyed no sooner but despised straight,… Read the rest
Sonnet 130
by William Shakespeare
My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun, Coral is far more red, than her lips red, If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun: If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head:… Read the rest
Sonnet 131
by William Shakespeare
Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art, As those whose beauties proudly make them cruel; For well thou know'st to my dear doting heart Thou art the fairest and most precious jewel. Yet in good faith… Read the rest
Sonnet 132
by William Shakespeare
Thine eyes I love, and they as pitying me, Knowing thy heart torment me with disdain, Have put on black, and loving mourners be, Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain. And truly not the morning sun… Read the rest
Sonnet 133
by William Shakespeare
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 be? Me from… Read the rest
Sonnet 134
by William Shakespeare
So now I have confessed that he is thine, And I my self am mortgaged to thy will, My self I'll forfeit, so that other mine, Thou wilt restore to be my comfort still: But thou wilt… Read the rest
Sonnet 126
by William Shakespeare
O thou my lovely boy who in thy power, Dost hold Time's fickle glass his fickle hour: Who hast by waning grown, and therein show'st, Thy lovers withering, as thy sweet self grow'st. If Nature (sovereign mistress… Read the rest