William Shakespeare

William Shakespeare

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A Lovers Complaint

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OM off a hill whose concave womb reworded A plaintful story from a sistering vale, My spirits to attend this double voice accorded, And down I laid to list the sad-tuned tale; Ere long espied a fickle maid full pale, Tearing of papers, breaking ri...
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To be or not to be that is the question

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To be, or not to be, that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of
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Spring

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When daisies pied, and violets blue,
And lady-smocks all silver-white,
And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue Do paint the meadows with delight,
The cuckoo then, on every tree,
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Fairy Land III

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Come unto these yellow sands,
And then take hands:
Court'sied when you have, and kiss'd,— The wild waves whist,— Foot it featly here and there;
And, sweet sprites, the burthen bear
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Fidele

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AR no more the heat o' the sun,    Nor the furious winter's rages;
Thou thy worldly task hast done,    Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages:
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust
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The Procreation Sonnets 1 - 17

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The Procreation Sonnets are grouped together because they all address the same young man, and all encourage him — with a variety of themes and arguements — to marry and father children (hence 'procreation')
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Sonnet 98 From you have I been absent in the spring

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From you have I been absent in the spring,
When proud-pied April, dressed in all his trim,
Hath put a spirit of youth in everything,
That heavy Saturn laughed and leaped with him,
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Winter

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When icicles hang by the wall And Dick the shepherd blows his nail And Tom bears logs into the hall,
And milk comes frozen home in pail,
When Blood is nipped and ways be foul,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
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Sonnet 130 My mistress eyes are nothing like the sun

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My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red:
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head
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Sonnet 30 When to the sessions of sweet silent thought

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When to the sessions of sweet silent thoughtI summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear times' waste;
Then can I drown an eye, unus'd to flow,
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