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21st Sonnet Amorous Zodiac attacks Banquet of Sense beauty beauty's believe Biron blood breast breath brow canzonette Chapman dark lady dear dedication divine doth doubt earth evidently eyes fair fame fear fire George Chapman give glory grace hath heart heaven Holofernes Homer honour humour ignorance Iliad Ilythia indicates L'Envoi later learning light lines lives Love's Labor's Lost Lucrece men's mind Mistress Philosophy Muse never Ovid Ovid's Banquet passage patron peare peare's Pembroke period plainly poet's praise prove published refers rich rival poet sacred satire says school of night scorn seed of memory sequence Shadow of Night Shakes Shakespeare shine sing SONNET 56 Sonnets 33 soul Southampton spirit sweet Tears of Peace thee theory thine things Thorpe thou thought tongues Troilus and Cressida true Venus and Adonis verse virtue words worth write written
Page 22 - 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 h'er head. I have seen roses...
Page 59 - When in the chronicle of wasted time I see descriptions of the fairest wights, And beauty making beautiful old rhyme, In praise of ladies dead, and lovely knights, Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty's best, Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow, I see their antique pen would have expressed Even such a beauty as you master now.
Page 51 - THE love I dedicate to your Lordship is without end; whereof this pamphlet, without beginning, is but a superfluous moiety. The warrant I have of your honourable disposition, not the worth of my untutored lines, makes it assured of acceptance. What I have done is yours, what I have to do is yours ; being part in all I have, devoted yours.
Page 156 - Was it the proud full sail of his great verse, Bound for the prize of all too precious you, That did my ripe thoughts in my brain inhearse, Making their tomb the womb wherein they grew ? Was it his spirit, by spirits taught to write Above a mortal pitch, that struck me dead ? No, neither he, nor his compeers by night Giving him aid, my verse astonished.
Page viii - Euripides, and Sophocles to us; Pacuvius, Accius, him of Cordova dead, To life again, to hear thy buskin tread, And shake a stage; or, when thy socks were on, Leave thee alone for the comparison Of all that insolent Greece or haughty Rome Sent forth, or since did from their ashes come.
Page 60 - And the sad augurs mock their own presage ; Incertainties now crown themselves assured And peace proclaims olives of endless age. Now with the drops of this most balmy time My love looks fresh, and Death to me subscribes, Since, spite of him, I '11 live in this poor rhyme, "While he insults o'er dull and speechless tribes : And thou in this shalt find thy monument, When tyrants' crests and tombs of brass are spent CVIII.
Page 89 - Subtle as sphinx ; as sweet, and musical, As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair, And, when love speaks, the voice of all the gods Makes heaven drowsy with the harmony. Never durst poet touch a pen to write, Until his ink were temper'd with love's sighs ; O, then his lines would ravish savage ears, And plant in tyrants mild humility.
Page 131 - The other turns to a mirth-moving jest, Which his fair tongue, conceit's expositor, Delivers in such apt and gracious words That aged ears play truant at his tales And younger hearings are quite ravished ; So sweet and voluble is his discourse.
Page 83 - Th' endeavour of this present breath may buy That honour, which shall bate his scythe's keen edge, And make us heirs of all eternity. Therefore, brave conquerors ! — for so you are, That war against your own affections, And the huge army of the world's desires...