Архив рубрики: sonnets

Sonnet no. 148

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 … Читать далее

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Sonnet no. 147

My love is as a fever longing still, For that which longer nurseth the disease; Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill, The uncertain sickly appetite to please. My reason, the physician to my love, Angry that his prescriptions … Читать далее

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Sonnet no. 146

Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth, … … … these rebel powers that thee array Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth, Painting thy outward walls so costly gay? Why so large cost, having so short a … Читать далее

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Sonnet no. 145

Those lips that Love’s own hand did make, Breathed forth the sound that said ‘I hate’, To me that languished for her sake: But when she saw my woeful state, Straight in her heart did mercy come, Chiding that tongue … Читать далее

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Sonnet no. 144

Two loves I have of comfort and despair, Which like two spirits do suggest me still: The better angel is a man right fair, The worser spirit a woman coloured ill. To win me soon to hell, my female evil, … Читать далее

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Sonnet no. 143

Lo, as a careful housewife runs to catch One of her feathered creatures broke away, Sets down her babe, and makes all swift dispatch In pursuit of the thing she would have stay; Whilst her neglected child holds her in … Читать далее

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Sonnet no. 142

Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate, Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving: O! but with mine compare thou thine own state, And thou shalt find it merits not reproving; Or, if it do, not from … Читать далее

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Sonnet no. 141

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 are mine ears … Читать далее

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Sonnet no. 140

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 it were, Though … Читать далее

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Sonnet no. 139

O! call not me to justify the wrong That thy unkindness lays upon my heart; Wound me not with thine eye, but with thy tongue: Use power with power, and slay me not by art, Tell me thou lov’st elsewhere; … Читать далее

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