First linesWilliam Shakespeare

A woman’s face with Nature’s own hand painted XX
Accuse me thus: that I have scanted all CXVII
Against my love shall be, as I am now, LXIII
Against that time, if ever that time come, XLIX
Ah! wherefore with infection should he live, LXVII
Alack, what poverty my Muse brings forth, CIII
Alas, ’tis true I have gone here and there CX
As a decrepit father takes delight XXXVII
As an unperfect actor on the stage XXIII
As fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou growest XI
Be wise as thou art cruel; do not press CXL
Being your slave, what should I do but tend LVII
Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan CXXXIII
Betwixt mine eye and heart a league is took, XLVII
But be contented: when that fell arrest LXXIV
But do thy worst to steal thyself away, XCII
But wherefore do not you a mightier way XVI
Canst thou, O cruel! say I love thee not, CXLIX
Cupid laid by his brand, and fell asleep: CLIII
Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion’s paws, XIX
Even as the sun with purple-colour’d face Venus and Adonis
Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing, LXXXVII
For shame! deny that thou bear’st love to any, X
From fairest creatures we desire increase, I
From off a hill whose concave womb reworded A Lover’s Complaint
From the besieged Ardea all in post, The Rape of Lucrece
From you have I been absent in the spring, XCVIII
Full many a glorious morning have I seen XXXIII
How can I then return in happy plight, XXVIII
How can my Muse want subject to invent, XXXVIII
How careful was I, when I took my way, XLVIII
How heavy do I journey on the way, L
How like a winter hath my absence been XCVII
How oft, when thou, my music, music play’st, CXXVIII
How sweet and lovely dost thou make the shame XCV
I grant thou wert not married to my Muse LXXXII
I never saw that you did painting need LXXXIII
If my dear love were but the child of state, CXXIV
If the dull substance of my flesh were thought, XLIV
If there be nothing new, but that which is LIX
If thou survive my well-contented day, XXXII
If thy soul check thee that I come so near, CXXXVI
In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes, CXLI
In loving thee thou know’st I am forsworn, CLII
In the old age black was not counted fair, CXXVII
Is it for fear to wet a widow’s eye IX
Is it thy will thy image should keep open LXI
Let me confess that we two must be twain, XXXVI
Let me not to the marriage of true minds CXVI
Let not my love be call’d idolatry, CV
Let the bird of loudest lay, The Phoenix and the Turtle
Let those who are in favour with their stars XXV
Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore, LX
Like as, to make our appetite more keen, CXVIII
Lo! as a careful housewife runs to catch CXLIII
Lo! in the orient when the gracious light VII
Look in thy glass, and tell the face thou viewest III
Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage XXVI
Love is my sin and thy dear virtue hate, CXLII
Love is too young to know what conscience is; CLI
Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war XLVI
Mine eye hath play’d the painter and hath stell’d XXIV
Music to hear, why hear’st thou music sadly? VIII
My glass shall not persuade me I am old, XXII
My love is as a fever, longing still CXLVII
My love is strengthen’d, though more weak in seeming; CII
My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun; CXXX
My tongue-tied Muse in manners holds her still, LXXXV
No longer mourn for me when I am dead LXXI
No more be grieved at that which thou hast done: XXXV
No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change: CXXIII
Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck; XIV
Not marble, nor the gilded monuments LV
Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul CVII
O me, what eyes hath Love put in my head, CXLVIII
O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power CXXVI
O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends CI
O, call not me to justify the wrong CXXXIX
O, for my sake do you with Fortune chide, CXI
O, from what power hast thou this powerful might CL
O, how I faint when I of you do write, LXXX
O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem LIV
O, how thy worth with manners may I sing, XXXIX
O, lest the world should task you to recite LXXII
O, never say that I was false of heart, CIX
O, that you were yourself! but, love, you are XIII
Or I shall live your epitaph to make, LXXXI
Or whether doth my mind, being crown’d with you, CXIV
Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth, CXLVI
Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault, LXXXIX
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? XVIII
Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eye LXII
Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea, LXV
Since I left you, mine eye is in my mind; CXIII
So am I as the rich, whose blessed key LII
So are you to my thoughts as food to life, LXXV
So is it not with me as with that Muse XXI
So oft have I invoked thee for my Muse LXXVIII
So shall I live, supposing thou art true, XCIII
So, now I have confess’d that he is thine, CXXXIV
Some glory in their birth, some in their skill, XCI
Some say thy fault is youth, some wantonness; XCVI
Sweet love, renew thy force; be it not said LVI
Take all my loves, my love, yea, take them all; XL
That god forbid that made me first your slave, LVIII
That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect, LXX
That thou hast her, it is not all my grief, XLII
That time of year thou mayst in me behold LXXIII
That you were once unkind befriends me now, CXX
The expense of spirit in a waste of shame CXXIX
The forward violet thus did I chide: XCIX
The little Love-god lying once asleep CLIV
The other two, slight air and purging fire, XLV
Then hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now; XC
Then let not winter’s ragged hand deface VI
They that have power to hurt and will do none, XCIV
Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying me, CXXXII
Those hours, that with gentle work did frame V
Those lines that I before have writ do lie, CXV
Those lips that Love’s own hand did make CXLV
Those parts of thee that the world’s eye doth view LXIX
Those pretty wrongs that liberty commits, XLI
Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art, CXXXI
Thou blind fool, Love, what dost thou to mine eyes, CXXXVII
Thus can my love excuse the slow offence LI
Thus is his cheek the map of days outworn, LXVIII
Thy bosom is endeared with all hearts, XXXI
Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brain CXXII
Thy glass will show thee how thy beauties wear, LXXVII
Tired with all these, for restful death I cry, LXVI
’Tis better to be vile than vile esteem’d, CXXI
To me, fair friend, you never can be old, CIV
Two loves I have of comfort and despair, CXLIV
Unthrifty loveliness, why dost thou spend IV
Was it the proud full sail of his great verse, LXXXVI
Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed, XXVII
Were’t aught to me I bore the canopy, CXXV
What is your substance, whereof are you made, LIII
What potions have I drunk of Siren tears, CXIX
What’s in the brain that ink may character CVIII
When forty winters shall besiege thy brow, II
When I consider everything that grows XV
When I do count the clock that tells the time, XII
When I have seen by Time’s fell hand defaced LXIV
When in the chronicle of wasted time CVI
When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see, XLIII
When my love swears that she is made of truth CXXXVIII
When thou shalt be disposed to set me light LXXXVIII
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought XXX
When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes, XXIX
Where art thou, Muse, that thou forget’st so long C
Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid, LXXIX
Who is it that says most? which can say more LXXXIV
Who will believe my verse in time to come, XVII
Whoever hath her wish, thou hast thy “Will,” CXXXV
Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day XXXIV
Why is my verse so barren of new pride, LXXVI
Your love and pity doth the impression fill CXII