XXXVII

As a decrepit father takes delight
To see his activ  new

CXLVIII

O me! what eyes hath Love put in my head,
Which ha  new

LXXXV

My tongue-tied Muse in manners holds her still,
Whil  new

LXX

That thou art blam'd shall not be thy defect,
For sla  new

XLV

The other two, slight air, and purging fire
Are both w  new

XXI

So is it not with me as with that Muse,
Stirr'd by a  new

XVIII

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art mo  new

CVIII

What's in the brain, that ink may character,
Which  new

CXXXVIII

When my love swears that she is made of truth,
I do believe her t  new

LI

Thus can my love excuse the slow offence
Of my dull bea  new

L

How heavy do I journey on the way,
When what I seek, my  new

LXXII

O! lest the world should task you to recite
What mer  new

XCII

But do thy worst to steal thyself away,
For term of l  new

CXX

That you were once unkind befriends me now,
And for th  new