Because I breathe not love to everie one,
Nor do not use set colors for to weare,
Nor nourish special locks of vowèd haire,
Nor give each speech a full point of a groane,—
The courtlie nymphs, acquainted with the moane
Of them who on their lips Love’s standard beare,
“What! he?” say they of me. “Now I dare sweare
He cannot love:...
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From “Twelfth Night,” Act II. Sc. 3.
O MISTRESS mine, where are you roaming?
O, stay and hear! your true-love ’s coming
That can sing both high and low;
Trip no further, pretty sweeting,
Journeys end in lovers’ meeting,—
Every wise man’s son doth know.What is love? ’t is not hereafter;
Present mirth hath present laughter;... -
That She Sung in Her Arbor
SITTING by a river’s side
Where a silent stream did glide,
Muse I did of many things
That the mind in quiet brings.
I ’gan think how some men deem
Gold their god; and some esteem
Honor is the chief content
That to man in life is lent;
And some others do contend
Quiet none like to a friend... -
Love in my bosom, like a bee,
Doth suck his sweet;
Now with his wings he plays with me.
Now with his feet;
Within mine eyes he makes his nest,
His bed amidst my tender breast,
My kisses are his daily feast,
And yet he robs me of my rest:
Ah! wanton, will ye?And if I sleep, then percheth he
With pretty... -
From “Alexander and Campaspe,” Act III. Sc. 5.
CUPID and my Campaspe played
At cards for kisses,—Cupid paid;
He stakes his quiver, bow and arrows,
His mother’s doves, and team of sparrows,—
Loses them too; then down he throws
The coral of his lip, the rose
Growing on ’s cheek (but none knows how);
With these the crystal of his... -
Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove,
That hills and valleys, dales and fields,
Woods or craggy mountains yield.And we will sit upon the rocks,
Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks
By shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.And will I make thee beds of roses,
... -
If all the world and love were young,
And truth in every shepherd’s tongue,
These pretty pleasures might me move
To live with thee, and be thy love.Time drives the flocks from field to fold,
When rivers rage and rocks grow cold;
And Philomel becometh dumb,
The rest complain of cares to come.The flowers do fade, and wanton...
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In the merry month of May,
In a morn by break of day,
With a troop of damsels playing
Forth I rode, forsooth, a-maying,When anon by a woodside,
Where as May was in his pride,
I espièd, all alone,
Phillida and Corydon.Much ado there was, God wot!
He would love and she would not:
She said, “Never man was true... -
From “Othello,” Act I. Sc. 3.
OTHELLO.—Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors,
My very noble and approved good masters,—
That I have ta’en away this old man’s daughter,
It is most true; true, I have married her:
The very head and front of my offending
Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in my speech,
And little blessed with the soft... -
Sonnet Cxlviii.
o ME! what eyes hath Love put in my head
Which have no correspondence with true sight!
Or, if they have, where is my judgment fled
That censures falsely what they see aright?
If that be fair whereon my false eyes dote,
What means the world to say it is not so?
If it be not, then love doth well denote
Love’s eye is...