• Like to the clear in highest sphere
    Where all imperial glory shines:
    Of selfsame color is her hair,
    Whether unfolded, or in twines:
      Heigh-ho, fair Rosalynd!
    Her eyes are sapphires set in snow,
    Refining heaven by every wink;
    The gods do fear whenas they glow,
    And I do tremble when I think
      Heigh-ho, would she were mine...

  • It was a beauty that I saw,—
      So pure, so perfect, as the frame
      Of all the universe were lame
    To that one figure, could I draw,
    Or give least line of it a law:
      A skein of silk without a knot!
    A fair march made without a halt!
    A curious form without a fault!
      A printed book without a blot!
      All beauty!—and without a...

  • From “As You Like It,” Act III. Sc. 5.
      THINK not I love him, though I ask for him;
    ’T is but a peevish boy:—yet he talks well;—
    But what care I for words?—yet words do well,
    When he that speaks them pleases those that hear.
    But, sure, he ’s proud; and yet his pride becomes him:
    He ’ll make a proper man: The best thing in him
    Is his...

  • O, Do not wanton with those eyes,
      Lest I be sick with seeing;
    Nor cast them down, but let them rise,
      Lest shame destroy their being.

    O, be not angry with those fires,
      For then their threats will kill me;
    Nor look too kind on my desires,
      For then my hopes will spill me.

    O, do not steep them in thy tears,
      For...

  • From “The Merchant of Venice,” Act III. Sc. 2.

    TELL me where is fancy bred,
    Or in the heart, or in the head?
    How begot, how nourishèd?
        Reply, reply.

    It is engendered in the eyes,
    With gazing fed; and fancy dies
    In the cradle where it lies.
      Let us all ring fancy’s knell;
      I ’ll begin it,—ding, dong, bell,...

  • Love is a sickness full of woes,
        All remedies refusing;
    A plant that most with cutting grows,
        Most barren with best using.
            Why so?
    More we enjoy it, more it dies;
    If not enjoyed, it sighing cries
            Heigh-ho!

    Love is a torment of the mind,
        A tempest everlasting;
    And Jove hath made it of a...

  • Ah! what is love? It is a pretty thing,
    As sweet unto a shepherd as a king,
            And sweeter too;
    For kings have cares that wait upon a crown,
    And cares can make the sweetest face to frown:
            Ah then, ah then,
    If country loves such sweet desires gain,
    What lady would not love a shepherd swain?

    His flocks are folded; he...

  • From “Hero and Leander”
      IT lies not in our power to love or hate,
    For will in us is over-ruled by fate.
    When two are stript long e’er the course begin,
    We wish that one should lose, the other win;
    And one especially do we affect
    Of two gold ingots, like in each respect:
    The reason no man knows; let it suffice,
    What we behold is...

  • From “Love’s Labor ’s Lost,” Act IV. Sc. 3.
      KING.—But what of this? are we not all in love?
      BIRON.—Nothing so sure; and thereby all forsworn.
      KING.—Then leave this chat; and, good Biron, now prove
    Our loving lawful, and our faith not torn.
      DUMAIN.—Ay, marry, there; some flattery for this evil.
      LONGAVILLE.—O, some authority how to proceed...

  • Muses, that sing Love’s sensual empirie,
    And lovers kindling your enragèd fires
    At Cupid’s bonfires burning in the eye,
    Blown with the empty breath of vain desires;
    You, that prefer the painted cabinet
    Before the wealthy jewels it doth store ye,
    That all your joys in dying figures set,
    And stain the living substance of your glory;...