INDEX OF FIRST LINES. A woman's face, with nature's own hand painted.... ...................... ............................ As a decrepit father takes delight................................................................................................................. As fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou grow'st. Page How can I then return in happy plight.. I grant thou wert not married to my muse... Let me confess that we two must be twain.. Let those who are in favour with their stars. Love is too young to know what conscience is.... Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war.. Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore. Look in thy glass, and tell the face thou viewest.. Mine eye hath play'd the painter, and hath stell'd.. My love is as a fever longing still...... My love is strengthened, though more weak in seeming. My tongue-tied muse in manners holds her still.. (Thy glaware) Those pretty wrongs that liberty commits.... Thou blind fool, Love, what dost thou to mine eyes... Thus can my love excuse the slow offence.... What is your substance, whereof are you made.. When I do count the clock that tells the time... Your love and pity doth the impression fill.. Page 96 12 100 138 11 121 151 75 47 137 143 57 74 37 128 72 127 110 150 10 92 33 131 114 59 125 8 21 18 35 112 49 144 94 36 106 85 90 23 141 40 82 |