What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
Other editions - View all
Adagia addressed alluded appear authorship Bacon and Shakespeare Baconian theory beauty's better character composition concealed Cymbeline dear death decay delight delineation doth dramas Elizabeth Essex fair false faults favor fear flowers fortune Francis Bacon give grace Gray's Gray's Inn grief hast hate hath heart Henry VI hundred immortal labors lest lines live look Lord Lord Bacon love's Love's Labor's Lost Lucrece Macbeth means memory merit mind Mistress Muse nature never night Novum Organum Othello pity play poem poet praise queen says Shake shame Sonnet Sonnet 56 sorrow speare stanza summer tells theatre Thee Thou art Thou dost Thou Truth Thy love Thy sweet Thy Thought Thyself Time's Timon Timon of Athens tion Tragedy true Truth and Beauty Venus and Adonis verse weed William Shakespeare words write written youth
Page 95 - O how much more doth beauty beauteous seem, By that sweet ornament which truth doth give ! The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem For that sweet odour which doth in it live. The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye As the perfumed tincture of the roses...
Page 104 - gainst his glory fight, And Time that gave doth now his gift confound. Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth And delves the parallels in beauty's brow, Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth, And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow: And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand, Praising thy wortli, despite his cruel hand.
Page 182 - 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 93 - So am I as the rich, whose blessed key Can bring him to his sweet up-locked treasure, The which he will not every hour survey, For blunting the fine point of seldom pleasure. Therefore are feasts so solemn and so rare, Since seldom coming, in the long year set, Like stones of worth they thinly placed are, Or captain* jewels in the carcanet.
Page 94 - What is your substance, whereof are you made, That millions of strange shadows on you tend? Since every one hath, every one, one shade, And you, but one, can every shadow lend. Describe Adonis, and the counterfeit Is poorly imitated after you ; On Helen's cheek all art of beauty set, And you in Grecian tires are painted new...
Page 212 - Past reason hunted, and no sooner had, Past reason hated, as a swallow'd bait On purpose laid to make the taker mad; Mad in pursuit, and in possession so; Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme; A bliss in proof, and proved, a very woe; Before, a joy proposed; behind, a dream. All this the world well knows; yet none knows well To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell. CXXX My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun; Coral is far more red than her lips...
Page 99 - Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you, Nor think the bitterness of absence sour When you have bid your servant once adieu ; Nor dare I question with my jealous thought Where you may be, or your affairs suppose, But, like a sad slave, stay and think of nought Save, where you are how happy you make those.
Page 145 - Your name from hence immortal life shall have, Though I, once gone, to all the world must die : The earth can yield me but a common grave, When you entombed in men's eyes shall lie. Your monument shall be my gentle verse. Which eyes not yet created shall o'er-read ; And tongues to be, your being shall rehearse. When all the breathers of this world are dead ; You still shall live (such virtue hath my pen.) Where breath most breathes, — even in the mouths of men.
Page 157 - Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing, And like enough thou know'st thy estimate ; The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing ; My bonds in thee are all determinate. For how do I hold thee but by thy granting ? And for that riches where is my deserving?
Page 229 - When my love swears that she is made of truth, I do believe her though I know she lies, That she might think me some untutor'd youth, Unlearned in the world's false subtleties. Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young, Although she knows my days are past the best...