Track Listing
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Be not afeard, the isle is full of noises (T...
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Live with me and be my love (from Sonnets to...
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As an unperfect actor on the stage
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My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun
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Why is my verse so barren of new pride
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Who will believe my verse in time to come
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That you were once unkind befriends me now
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How oft, when thou, my music
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When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eye...
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Being your slave, what should I do but tend
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Tired with all these, for restful death I cr...
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When I consider everything that grows
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Let those who are in favour with their stars
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They that have power to hurt and will do non...
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Those lips that Love's own hand did make
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Come again, sweet love doth now invite
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Th' expense of spirit in a waste of shame
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Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying me
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I never saw that you did painting need
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When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
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Is it thy will thy image should keep open
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Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war
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No more be grieved at that which thou hast d...
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O never say that I was false of heart
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Look in thy glass and tell the face thou vie...
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Some glory in their birth, some in their ski...
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How heavy do I journey on the way
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Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor bound...
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Like as the waves make towards the pebbled s...
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The quality of mercy is not strained (Portia...
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Sweet love, renew thy force; be it not said
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SInce I left you, mine eye is in my mind
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Be wise as thou art cruel; do not press
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Is it for fear to wet a widow's eye
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So is it not with me as with that Muse
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Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion's paws
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The Willow Song (Desdemona - Othello)
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When my love swears that she is made of trut...
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When I do count the clock that tells the tim...
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What potions have I drunk of siren tears
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Not marble nor the gilded monuments
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Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eye
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Let me not to the marriage of true minds
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Music to hear, why hears't thou music sadly
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When forty winters shall besiege thy brow
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No longer mourn for me when I am dead
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In faith I do not love thee with mine eyes
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Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day
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Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck
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My love is as a fever, longing still
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The little Love-God lying once asleep
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Shall I compare thee to a summer's day
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Our revels now are ended (The Tempest, Act I...
