| 51 |
Thus can my love excuse the slow offence |
Commentary |
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| 52 |
So am I as the rich whose blessed key |
Commentary |
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| 53 |
What is your substance, whereof are you made |
Commentary |
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| 54 |
Oh how much more doth beauty beauteous seem |
Commentary |
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| 55 |
Not marble nor the gilded monuments |
Commentary |
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| 56 |
Sweet love renew thy force, be it not said |
Commentary |
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| 57 |
Being your slave what should I do but tend |
Commentary |
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| 58 |
That God forbid, that made me first your slave |
Commentary |
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| 59 |
If there be nothing new, but that which is |
Commentary |
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| 60 |
Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore |
Commentary |
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| 61 |
Is it thy will thy image should keep open |
Commentary |
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| 62 |
Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eye |
Commentary |
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| 63 |
Against my love shall be as I am now |
Commentary |
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| 64 |
When I have seen by Time's fell hand defaced |
Commentary |
Extended commentary |
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| 65 |
Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea |
Commentary |
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| 66 |
Tired with all these for restful death I cry |
Commentary |
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| 67 |
Ah wherefore with infection should he live |
Commentary |
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| 68 |
Thus is his cheek the map of days outworn |
Commentary |
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| 69 |
Those parts of thee that the world's eye doth view |
Commentary |
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| 70 |
That thou art blamed shall not
be thy defect |
Commentary |
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| 71 |
No longer mourn for me when I am dead |
Commentary |
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| 72 |
O lest the world should task you to recite |
Commentary |
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| 73 |
That time of year thou mayst in me behold |
Commentary |
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| 74 |
But be contented when that fell arrest |
Commentary |
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| 75 |
So are you to my thoughts as food to life |
Commentary |
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| 76 |
Why is my verse so barren of new pride |
Commentary |
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| 77 |
Thy glass will show thee how thy beauties wear |
Commentary |
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| 78 |
So oft have I invoked thee for my muse |
Commentary |
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| 79 |
Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid |
Commentary |
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| 80 |
O how I faint when I of you do write |
Commentary |
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| 81 |
Or I shall live your epitaph to make |
Commentary |
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| 82 |
I grant thou wert not married to my muse |
Commentary |
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| 83 |
I never saw that you did painting need |
Commentary |
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| 84 |
Who is it that says most, which can say more |
Commentary |
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| 85 |
My tongue-tied muse in manners
holds her still |
Commentary |
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| 86 |
Was it the proud full sail of his great verse |
Commentary |
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| 87 |
Farewell, thou art too dear for my possessing |
Commentary |
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| 88 |
When thou shalt be disposed to set me light |
Commentary |
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| 89 |
Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault |
Commentary |
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| 90 |
Then hate me when thou wilt, if ever, now |
Commentary |
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| 91 |
Some glory in their birth, some in their skill |
Commentary |
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| 92 |
But do thy worst to steal thyself away |
Commentary |
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| 93 |
So shall I live, supposing thou art true |
Commentary |
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| 94 |
They that have power to hurt, and will do none |
Commentary |
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| 95 |
How sweet and lovely dost thou make the shame |
Commentary |
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| 96 |
Some say thy fault is youth, some wantonness |
Commentary |
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| 97 |
How like a winter hath my absence been |
Commentary |
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| 98 |
From you I have been absent in the spring |
Commentary |
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| 99 |
The forward violet thus did I chide |
Commentary |
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| 100 |
Where art thou muse, that thou forget'st so long |
Commentary |
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