Use LEFT and RIGHT arrow keys to navigate between flashcards;
Use UP and DOWN arrow keys to flip the card;
H to show hint;
A reads text to speech;
117 Cards in this Set
- Front
- Back
All kings, and all their favourites,/ All glory of honours, beauties, wits,/
|
The Sun itself...is elder by a year now
|
|
All other things, to their destruction draw/ Only our love hath no decay,/
|
This, no tomorrow hath, nor yesterday
|
|
As well as other princes, we, (Who prince enough in one another be)/
|
Must leave at last in death, these eyes and ears
|
|
Here upon earth, we are kings, and none but we/
|
Can be such kings
|
|
Who is so safe as we? Where none can do/
|
Treason to us, except one of us two
|
|
When, by thy scorn,
|
O murderess, I am dead
|
|
thee, feigned vestal,
|
in worse arms, shall see
|
|
What I will say, I will not tell thee now,
|
Lest that preserve thee
|
|
since my love is spent/
|
I had rather thou shouldst painfully repent
|
|
We two,
|
one another's best
|
|
Our eyes,
|
upon one double string
|
|
As 'twixt two equal armies, Fate/
|
Suspends uncertain victory
|
|
he knew not which soul spake/
|
Because both meant, both spake the same
|
|
This ecstasy doth unperplex/ (We said) and tell us what we love,/
|
We see by this, it was not sex
|
|
But O alas, so long so far/
|
Our bodies, why do we forbear?
|
|
Nor are dross to us,
|
but allay
|
|
So must pure lovers' souls descend/
|
T'affections and to faculties...Else a great prince in prison lies
|
|
To our bodies turn we then, that so/
|
Weak men on love revealed may look
|
|
this dialogue
|
of one
|
|
Me it sucked first,
|
and now sucks thee
|
|
Confess it/ this cannot be said/
|
A sin, a shame, or loss of maidenhead
|
|
And this, alas,
|
Is more than we would do.
|
|
This flea is you and I, and this/
|
Our marriage bed and marriage temple is.
|
|
Though parents grudge,
|
and you,
|
|
use make you
|
apt to kill me
|
|
Yet thou triumph'st and say'st that thou/
|
Find'st not thyself nor me the weaker now
|
|
then learn how false fears be,/ Just so much honour, when thou yield'st to me/
|
Will waste, as this flea's death took life from thee.
|
|
I wonder, by my troth, what thou, and I/
|
Did till we loved?
|
|
sucked on country pleasures, childishly?/
|
Or snorted we in the seven sleepers' den?
|
|
all pleasures
|
fancies be
|
|
If ever any beauty I did see/
|
Which I desired, and got, 'twas but a dream of thee.
|
|
Let sea-discoverers
|
to new worlds have gone
|
|
Let us possess one world,
|
each hath one, and is one
|
|
Where can we find two better hemispheres?/
|
Without sharp north, without declining west?
|
|
Love so alike, that none do slacken,
|
none can die
|
|
Some that have deeper digged love's mine than I/
|
Say, where his centric happiness doth lie
|
|
I have loved, and got,
|
and told
|
|
I should not find that hidden mystery;
|
Oh 'tis imposture all
|
|
So, lovers dream a rich and long delight/
|
But get a winter-seeming summer's night.
|
|
Our ease, our thrift, our honour, and our day/
|
Shall we, for this vain bubble's shadow pay?
|
|
Endure the short scorn
|
of a bridegroom's play
|
|
That loving wretch that swears/ 'Tis not the bodies marry, but the minds/
|
Which he in her angelic finds
|
|
Hope not for mind in women; at their best/
|
Sweetness and wit, they are but mummy, possessed
|
|
The sun
|
is spent
|
|
The world's whole
|
sap is sunk
|
|
Dead and interred; yet all these seem to laugh;/
|
Compared with me, who am their epitaph
|
|
Study me then,
|
you who shall lovers be
|
|
For I am every
|
dead thing
|
|
He ruined me, and I am re-begot/
|
Of absence, darkness, death; things which are not
|
|
I, by love's limbeck, am the grave/
|
Of all, that's nothing
|
|
Oft a flood/ Have we two wept, and so/
|
Drowned the whole world
|
|
But I am by her death (which word wrongs her)/
|
Of the first nothing
|
|
If I were any beast,/ Some ends some means; yea plants, yea stones detest/
|
And love
|
|
If I an ordinary nothing were,/
|
As shadow, a light, and body must be here
|
|
But I am none;
|
nor will my sun renew
|
|
Enjoy your
|
summer all
|
|
Both the year's and the day's
|
deep midnight is
|
|
Busy old fool
|
unruly sun
|
|
Saucy, pedantic wretch, go chide/ Late school boys and sour prentices/
|
Go tell court huntsmen that the king will ride/ Call country ants to harvest offices
|
|
Love, all alike no season knows, nor clime,/
|
Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time
|
|
I could eclipse and cloud them with a wink/
|
But that I would not lose her sight so long
|
|
If her eyes have
|
not blinded thine
|
|
Whether both th'Indias of spice and mine/
|
Be where thou left'st them, or lie here with me
|
|
She is all states,
|
and all princes, I
|
|
Princes do but play us; compared to this/
|
All honour's mimick; all wealth alchemy
|
|
Thine age
|
asks ease
|
|
To warm the world,
|
that's done in warming us
|
|
Shine here to us,
|
and thou art everywhere
|
|
So let us melt, and make no noise/
|
No tear floods, nor sigh-tempests move
|
|
'Twere profanation of our joys/
|
To tell the laity of our love
|
|
Dull sublunary lovers' love/
|
(Whose soul is sense) cannot admit/ Absence
|
|
we by a love, so much refined,/
|
That ourselves know not what it is
|
|
Care less, eyes, lips,
|
and hands to miss
|
|
Our two souls, therefore, which are one...endure not yet/
|
A breach, but an expansion/ Like gold to aery thinness beat.
|
|
If they be two, they are two so/
|
As stiff twin compasses
|
|
Thy soul the fixed foot, makes no show/
|
To move, but doth if th'other do
|
|
when the other doth far roam/ It leans, and hearkens after it,/
|
And grows erect as that comes home
|
|
Thy firmness makes my circle just,/
|
And makes me end where I begun.
|
|
Let me pour forth/ My tears before thy face...
|
For thy face coins them, and thy stamp they do bear
|
|
Fruits of much grief, they are emblems of more,/ When a tear falls, that thou falls which it bore/
|
So thou and I are nothing then, when on a divers shore.
|
|
O more than moon,/ Draw not up seas to drown me in thy sphere,/
|
Weep me not dead in thine arms
|
|
Since thou and I sigh one another's breath/
|
Who'er sighs most, is cruellest, and hastes the other's death.
|
|
This is my play's last scene, here heavens appoint/
|
My pilgrimage's last mile
|
|
my race/
|
Idly, yet quickly run
|
|
My span's last inch,
|
my minute's latest point
|
|
gluttonous death will instantly unjoint/
|
My body, and soul, and I shall sleep a space
|
|
But my ever-waking part shall see that face/
|
Whose fear already shakes my ever joint
|
|
So fall my sins, that all may have their right,/
|
To where they are bred, and would press me to hell
|
|
For thus I leave
|
the world, the flesh, and devil
|
|
At the round earth's imagined corners, blow/
|
Your trumpets, angels
|
|
arise, arise/ From death, you numberless infinities/
|
Of souls, and to your scattered bodies go
|
|
But let them sleep, Lord,
|
and me mourn a space
|
|
'Tis late to ask abundance of thy grace,/
|
When we are there; here on this lowly ground/ Teach me how to repent
|
|
As if thou hadst sealed
|
my pardon with thy blood
|
|
Death be no proud, though some have called thee/
|
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so
|
|
Die not, poor death,
|
nor yet canst thou kill me
|
|
soonest our best men
|
with thee do go
|
|
Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
|
And dost with poison, war and sickness dwell
|
|
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,/
|
And death shall be no more, Death thou shalt die.
|
|
What if this present
|
were the world's last night?
|
|
Mark in my heart, O soul, where thou dost dwell,/ The picture of Christ crucified, and tell/
|
Whether that countenance can thee affright
|
|
Blood fills his frowns, which from his pierced head fell,/ And can that tongue adjudge thee unto hell,/
|
Which prayed forgiveness for his foes' fierce spite?/ No, no
|
|
as in my idolatry/
|
I said to all my profane mistresses
|
|
To wicked spirits are horrid shapes assigned,/
|
This beauteous form assures a piteous mind.
|
|
Batter my heart,
|
three-personed God
|
|
As yet but knock, breathe, shine, and seek to mend;/ That I may rise, and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend/
|
Your force, to break, blow, burn and make me new
|
|
I, like an usurped town, to another due,/
|
Labour to admit you
|
|
Reason your viceroy in me, me should defend,/
|
But is captived, and proves weak or untrue
|
|
Yet dearly
|
I love you
|
|
But am betrothed
|
unto your enemy
|
|
Take me to you, imprison me, for I/ Except you enthral me, never shall be free/
|
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.
|
|
Wilt thou forgive that sin where I begun,/
|
Which was my sin, though it were done before?
|
|
that sin through which I run,/
|
And do run still: though still I do deplore
|
|
When thou hast done, thou hast not done,/
|
For, I have more
|
|
that sin which I have won others to sin?
|
and made my sin their door
|
|
I have a sin of fear, that when I have spun/
|
My last thread, I shall perish on the shore
|
|
And having done that, thou hast done,/
|
I fear no more.
|