The book, all of it

I Enormous creatures augment my desire II When forty winters shall besiege thy brow III Look in thy glass and tell the face thou viewest IV Unthrifty loveliness, why dost thou spend V Those hours, that with gentle work did frame VI Then let not winter’s ragged hand deface VII Lo! in the orient when the gracious light VIII Music to hear, why hear’st thou music sadly? CLIV The little Love-god lying once asleep CLIII Cupid laid by his brand and fell asleep CLII In loving thee thou know’st I am forsworn CLI Love is too young to know what conscience is CL O! from what power hast thou this powerful might CXLIX Canst thou, O cruel! say I love thee not CXLVIII Such eyes CXLVII My love is like a fever CXLVI Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth

CXLV My hands move my lips CXLIV Two loves I have of comfort and despair CXLII Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate CXLI In faith I do not love thee with mine eyes CXLIII Lo, as a careful housewife runs to catch CXL Be wise as thou art cruel; do not press CXXXIX O! call not me to justify the wrong CXXXVIII When my love swears that she is made of truth CXXXVII Thou blind fool, Love, what dost thou to mine eyes CXXXVI If thy soul check thee that I come so near CXXXV Whoever hath her wish, thou hast thy ‘Will,’ CXXXIV So, now I have confess’d that he is thine CXXXIII Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan CXXXII Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying me CXXXI Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art CXXX My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun IX Is it for fear to wet a widow’s eye X For shame! deny that thou bear’st love to any XI As fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou grow’st XIII O! that you were your self; but, love you are XIV Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck XV When I consider everything that grows XVII Who will believe my verse in time to come XVIII Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? XII When I do count the clock that tells the time XVI But wherefore do not you a mightier way XIX Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion’s paws XX A woman’s face with nature’s own hand painted XXI So is it not with me as with that Muse XXII My glass shall not persuade me I am old XXIII As an unperfect actor on the stage XXIV Mine eye hath play’d the painter and hath stell’d XXV Let those who are in favour with their stars XXVI Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage XXVII Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed XXVIII How can I then return in happy plight XXIX When in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes XXX When to the sessions of sweet silent thought XXXI Thy bosom is endeared with all hearts XXXII If thou survive my well-contented day XXXIII Full many a glorious morning have I seen XXXIV Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day XXXV No more be griev’d at that which thou hast done XXXVI Let me confess that we two must be twain XXXVII As a decrepit father takes delight L How heavy do I journey on the way LXXV So are you to my thoughts as food to life

XXXVIII How can my Muse want subject to invent XXXIX O! how thy worth with manners may I sing XL Take all my loves, my love, yea take them all XLI Those pretty wrongs that liberty commits XLII That thou hast her it is not all my grief XLIII When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see XLIV If the dull substance of my flesh were thought XLV The other two, slight air, and purging fire XLVI Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war XLVII Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is took XLVIII How careful was I when I took my way XLIX Against that time, if ever that time come LI Thus can my love excuse the slow offence LII So am I as the rich, whose blessed key LIII What is your substance, whereof are you made LIV O! how much more doth beauty beauteous seem LV Not marble, nor the gilded monuments LVI Sweet love, renew thy force; be it not said LVII Being your slave what should I do but tend LVIII That god forbid, that made me first your slave LIX If there be nothing new, but that which is LX Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore LXI Is it thy will, thy image should keep open LXII Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eye LXIII Against my love shall be as I am now LXIV When I have seen by Time’s fell hand defac’d LXV Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea LXVII Ah! wherefore with infection should he live LXVI Tired with all these, for restful death I cry LXVIII Thus is his cheek the map of days outworn LXIX Those parts of thee that the world’s eye doth view LXX That thou art blam’d shall not be thy defect LXXI No longer mourn for me when I am dead LXXII O! lest the world should task you to recite LXXIII That time of year thou mayst in me behold LXXIV But be contented: when that fell arrest LXXVI Why is my verse so barren of new pride LXXVII Thy glass will show thee how thy beauties wear LXXIX Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid LXXX O how I faint when I of you do write LXXXI Or I shall live your epitaph to make LXXXII I grant thou wert not married to my Muse

LXXVIII So oft have I invoked thee for my Muse LXXXIII I never saw that you did painting need LXXXIV Who is it that says most, which can say more LXXXV My tongue-tied Muse in manners holds her still LXXXVI Was it the proud full sail of his great verse LXXXVII Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing LXXXVIII When thou shalt be dispos’d to set me light LXXXIX Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault XC Then hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now

XCI Some glory in their birth, some in their skill XCII But do thy worst to steal thyself away XCIII So shall I live, supposing thou art true XCIV They that have power to hurt, and will do none XCV How sweet and lovely dost thou make the shame XCVI Some say thy fault is youth, some wantonness XCVII How like a winter hath my absence been XCVIII From you have I been absent in the spring XCIX The forward violet thus did I chide C Where art thou Muse that thou forget’st so long CI O truant Muse what shall be thy amends CII My love is strengthen’d, though more weak in seeming CIII Alack! what poverty my Muse brings forth CIV To me, fair friend, you never can be old CV Let not my love be call’d idolatry CVI When in the chronicle of wasted time CVII Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul CVIII What’s in the brain, that ink may character CIX O! never say that I was false of heart CX Alas! ’tis true, I have gone here and there CXI O! for my sake do you with Fortune chide CXII Your love and pity doth the impression fill CXIII Since I left you, mine eye is in my mind CXIV Or whether doth my mind, being crown’d with you CXV Those lines that I before have writ do lie CXVI Let me not to the marriage of true minds CXVII Accuse me thus: that I have scanted all CXVIII Like as, to make our appetite more keen CXIX What potions have I drunk of Siren tears CXX That you were once unkind befriends me now CXXI ’Tis better to be vile than vile esteem’d CXXII Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brain CXXIII No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change CXXIV If my dear love were but the child of state

CXXV Were’t aught to me I bore the canopy CXXVI O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power CXXVII In the old age black was not counted fair CXXVIII How oft when thou, my music, music play’st CXXIX The expense of spirit in a waste of shame