Sonnets 121-130

CXXI. 'Tis better to be vile than vile esteem'd
CXXII. Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brain
CXXIII. No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change
CXXIV. If my dear love were but the child of state
CXXV. Were 't aught to me I bore the canopy
CXXVI. O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power
CXXVII. In the old age black was not counted fair
CXXVIII. How oft when thou, my music, music play'st
CXXIX. The expense of spirit in a waste of shame
CXXX. My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun

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Poems - Index