William Shakespeare

The Sonnets

The Signet Classic Shakespeare series contains the preeminent mass market books of the complete works of Shakespeare. This reissue features a new Overview by Sylvan Barnet, former chairman of the English Department at Tufts University, an updated Bibliography, suggested references, and stage and film history.
61 printed pages

Impressions

    Reemshared an impressionlast year
    👍Worth reading
    💞Loved Up

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    🎯Worthwhile

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Quotes

    Menna Abu Zahrahas quoted4 months ago
    Making a famine where abundance lies,
    Thy self thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel:
    Ирина Осипенкоhas quotedlast year
    99
    The forward violet thus did I chide,

    Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells,

    If not from my love's breath? The purple pride

    Which on thy soft check for complexion dwells,

    In my love's veins thou hast too grossly dyed.

    The lily I condemned for thy hand,

    And buds of marjoram had stol'n thy hair,

    The roses fearfully on thorns did stand,

    One blushing shame, another white despair:

    A third nor red, nor white, had stol'n of both,

    And to his robbery had annexed thy breath,

    But for his theft in pride of all his growth

    A vengeful canker eat him up to death.

    More flowers I noted, yet I none could see,

    But sweet, or colour it had stol'n from thee.

    100
    Reemhas quotedlast year
    Music to hear, why hear'st thou music sadly?
    Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy:
    Why lov'st thou that which thou receiv'st not gladly,
    Or else receiv'st with pleasure thine annoy?
    If the true concord of well-tuned sounds,
    By unions married do offend thine ear,
    They do but sweetly chide thee, who confounds
    In singleness the parts that thou shouldst bear:
    Mark how one string sweet husband to another,
    Strikes each in each by mutual ordering;
    Resembling sire, and child, and happy mother,
    Who all in one, one pleasing note do sing:
    Whose speechless song being many, seeming one,
    Sings this to thee, 'Thou single wilt prove none'.

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