William Shakespeare

“ Do I delight to die, or life desire?
⁠But now I liv'd, and life was deaths annoy:
⁠But now I dy'd, and death was lively joy.
O thou didst kill me, kill me once again,
Thy eyes, shrew'd tutor, that hard heart of thine,
Hath taught them scornful tricks, and such disdain,
That they have murdred this poor heart of mine;
⁠And these mine eyes, true leaders to their Queen,
⁠But for thy pitious lips no more had seen.
Long may they kiss each other for this cure:
Oh never let their crimson liveries wear,
And as they last, their verdure still endure,
To drive infection from the dangerous year ”

“ Like misty vapours, when they blot the sky,
⁠Sowring his cheeks, cryes fie, no more of love,
⁠The Sun doth burn my face, I must remove:
Ah me (quoth Venus) young and so unkind?
What bare excuses mak'st thou to be gone?
I'le sigh celestial breath, whose gentle wind
Shall cool the heat of this descending Sun:
⁠I'le make a shadow for thee of my hairs,
⁠If they burn too, I'le quench them with my tears.
The Sun that shines from heaven shines but warm,
And loe, I lie between that Sun and thee:
The heat I have from thence doth little harm,
Thine eye darts forth the fire that burneth me. ”

“ O how her eyes and tears did lend and borrow!
Her eyes seen in the tears, tears in her eye,
Both crystals, where they view'd each others sorrow,
Sorrow, that friendly sighs sought still to dry:
⁠But like a stormy day, now wind, now rain,
⁠Sighs dry her cheeks, tears make them wet again.
Variable passions throng her constant woe,
As striving which should best become her grief.
All entertain'd, each passion labours so,
That every present sorrow seemeth chief:
But none is best; then join they altogether,
Like many clouds consulting for foul weather. ”

“ What wax so frozen, but dissolves with tempring,
And yields at last to every light impression?
Things out of hope are compast oft with ventring,
Chiefly in love, whose leave exceeds commission:
⁠Affection faints not like a pale fac'd coward,
⁠But then woos best, when most his choice is froward.
When he did frown, O had she then gave over,
Such Nectar from his lips she had not suckt:
Foul words and frowns must not repel a Lover,
What though the Rose have pricks? yet it is pluckt.
⁠Were beauty under twenty locks kept fast,
⁠Yet love breaks through, and picks them all at last. ”

“ Mine eyes are turn'd to fire, my heart to lead,
⁠Heavy hearts lead melt at mine eyes red fire:
⁠So shall I die by drops of hot desire.
Alas, poor world, what treasure hast thou lost?
What face remains alive that's worth the viewing?
Whose tongue is musick now? what canst thou boast
Of things long since, or anything ensuing?
⁠The flowers are sweet, their colours fresh & trim:
⁠But true sweet beauty liv'd and dy'd in him.
Bonnet or veile, henceforth no creature wear;
Nor Sun nor Wind will ever strive to kiss you.
Having no fair to lose, you need not fear ”

“ Being prison'd in her eye, like pearls in glass:
Yet sometimes falls an orient drop beside,
Which her cheek melts? as scorning it should pass
⁠To wash the foul face of the sluttish ground,
⁠Who is but drunken when she seemeth drown'd.
O hard-believing love, how strange it seems
Not to believe, and yet too credulous!
Thy weal and woe, are both of them extreams,
Despair and hope make thee ridiculous:
⁠The one doth flatter thee in thoughts unlikely,
⁠In likely thoughts, the other kills thee quickly. ”

“ Upon fresh beauty, blotting it with blame;
⁠Which the hot tyrant stains, and soon bereaves,
⁠As Caterpillers do the tender leaves.
Love comforteth like Sun-shine after rain:
But lusts effect is tempest after Sun.
Loves gentle spring doth always fresh remain:
Lusts Winter comes, ere Summer half be done.
⁠Love surfets not: lust like a glutton dies.
⁠Love is all truth: lust full of forged lies.
More I could tell, but more I dare not say;
The Text is old, the Orator too green;
Therefore in sadness now I will away,
My face is full of shame, my heart of teen ”

“ His snout digs sepulchres, where-e're he goes:
⁠Being mov'd, he strikes whate're is in his way;
⁠And whom he strikes, his crooked tushes slay.
His brawny sides with hairy bristles armed,
Are better proof then thy spears point can enter,
His short thick neck cannot be easily harmed,
Being ireful, on the Lyon he will venter:
⁠The thorny brambles, and embracing bushes,
⁠As fearful of him, part, through whom he rushes.
Alas, he nought esteems that face of thine,
To which Love's eye pay tributary gazes,
Nor thy soft hand, sweet lips, and chrystal eyne;
Whose full perfection all the world amazes ”

“ Dost thou drink tears, that thou provok'st such weeping?
What may a heavy groan advantage thee?
Why hast thou cast into eternal sleeping
Those eyes that taught all other eyes to see?
⁠Now nature cares not for thy mortal vigor,
⁠Since her best work is ruin'd with thy rigour.
Here overcome, as one full of despair,
She veil'd her eye-lids, who like sluces stopt
The crystal tide, that from her two cheeks fair,
In the sweet channel of her bosom dropt. ”

“ Two strengthless Doves will draw me through the sky
From morn till night, even where I list to sport me.
⁠Is love so light, sweet Boy, and may it be
⁠That thou shouldst think it heavy unto thee.
Is thine own heart to thine own face affected?
Can thy right hand seize love upon thy left?
Then wooe thy self, be of thy self rejected,
Steal thine own freedom, and complain on theft. ”

“ Had I no eyes but ears, my ears would love,
That inward beauty, and invisible:
Or were I deaf, thy outward parts would move
Each part in me that were but sensible.
⁠Though neither eyes nor ears, to hear nor see,
⁠Yet should I be in love by touching thee.
Say, that the sense of feeling were bereft me,
And that I could not see, nor hear, nor touch,
And nothing but the very smell were left me,
Yet would my love to thee be still as much,
⁠For from the Stillatory of thy face excelling,
⁠Comes breath perfum'd, that breedeth love by smelling. ”

“ Panting he lies, and breathing in her face:
She feedeth on the steam, as on a prey,
And calls it heavenly moisture, air of grace,
⁠Wishing her cheeks were gardens full of flowers,
⁠So they were dew'd with such distilling showers.
Look how a Bird lies tangled in a Net,
So fastned in her arms Adonis lies:
Pure shame and aw'd resistance made him fret,
Which bred more beauty in his angry eyes.
⁠Rain added to a River that is rank,
⁠Perforce will force it overflow the bank. ”

“ Musing the morning is so much ore-worn,
And yet she hears no tydings of her love,
She hearkens for his hounds, and for his horn:
⁠Anon she hears them chaunt it lustily,
⁠And all in haste she coasteth to the cry.
And as she runs, the bushes in the way,
Some catch her by the neck, some kiss her face,
Some twine about her thigh to make her stay,
She wildly breaketh from their strict embrace,
⁠Like a milch Doe, whose swelling dugs do ake,
⁠Hasting to feed her fawn hid in some brake. ”

“ Poor flower (quoth she) this was thy fathers guise,
(Sweet issue of a more sweet smelling Sire)
For every little grief to wet his eyes,
To grow unto himself was his desire,
⁠And so 'tis thine: but know, it is as good
⁠To wither in my brest, as in his blood. ”

“ She thinks he could not die, he is not dead:
⁠Her voice is stopt, her joints forget to bow,
⁠Her eyes are mad, that they have wept till now.
Upon his hurt she looks so stedfastly,
That her sight dazling, makes the wound seem three,
And then she reprehends her mangling eye,
That makes more gashes where no breach should be:
⁠His face seems twain, each several limb is doubled,
⁠For oft the eye mistakes, the brain being troubled.
My tongue cannot express my grief for one ”

“ Thing like a man, but of no woman bred,
⁠Thou art no man though of a mans complexion,
⁠For men will kiss even by their own direction.
This said, impatience chokes her pleading tongue,
And swelling passion doth provoke a pause,
Red cheeks and fiery eyes blaze forth her wrong,
Being judge in love, she cannot right her cause ”

“ Unless it be a Boar, and then I chase it.
'Tis much to borrow, and I will not owe it,
My love to love, is love but to disgrace it;
⁠For I have heard it is a life in death,
⁠That laughs, and weeps, and all but with a breath. ”

“ Thy coward heart, with false bethinking grieves:
⁠Even at this word she hears a merry horn,
⁠Whereat she leaps that was but late forlorn.
As Faulcon to the lure away she flies:
The grass stoops not, she treads on it so light,
And in her haste unfortunately spies
The foul Boars conquest on her fair delight.
⁠Which seen, her eyes, as murder'd with the view,
⁠Like Stars, asham'd of day, themselves withdrew. ”

“ A smile recures the wounding of a frown,
But blessed bankrupt, that by love so thriveth:
⁠The silly boy believing she is dead,
⁠Claps her pale cheek, till clapping makes it red. ”

“ My youth with his; the more am I accurst;
⁠With this she falleth in the place she stood,
⁠And stains her face with his congealed blood.
She looks upon his lips, and they are pale;
She takes him by the hand, and that is cold;
She whispers in his ear a heavy tale,
As if he heard the woful words she told:
⁠She lifts the coffer lids that close his eyes,
⁠Where loe, two lamps, burnt out, in darkness lies. ”

“ Another and another answer him,
⁠Clapping their proud tails to the ground below,
⁠Shaking their scratcht ears, bleeding as they go.
Look how the worlds poor people are amazed
At Apparitions, signs, and prodigies,
Whereon with fearful Eyes they long have gazed,
Infusing them with dreadful prophecies,
⁠So she, at these sad signs, draws up her breath,
⁠And, sighing it again, exclaims on death.
Hard-favoured Tyrant, ugly, meagre, lean,
Hateful divorce of Love (thus chides she Death)
Grim-grinning Ghost, earths worm, what dost thou mean,
To stifle beauty, and to steal his breath? ”

“ Remove your siege from my unyielding heart,
To loves alarm it will not ope the gate.
⁠Dismiss your vows, your fained tears, your flattry;
⁠For where a heart is hard, they make no battry.
What, canst thou talk (quoth she) hast thou a tong,
O would thou had'st not, or I had no hearing,
Thy Mermaids voice hath done me double wrong:
I had my load before, now prest with bearing,
⁠Melodious discord, heavenly tune harsh sounding,
⁠Earths deep sweet musick, and hearts deep sore wounding. ”

“ Broad brest, full eyes, small head, and nostril wide,
High crest, short ears, straight legs, and passing strong,
Thin mane, thick tail, broad buttock, tender hide:
⁠Look what a horse should have he did not lack,
⁠Save a proud rider on so proud a back.
Sometimes he scuds far off, and there he stares;
Anon he starts at stirring of a Feather:
To bid the wind abase he now prepares,
And where he run, or flie, they know not whether,
⁠For through his mane and tail the high wind sings,
⁠Fanning the hairs, who have like feather'd wings. ”

“ Where fearfully the dogs exclaim aloud:
⁠Finding their enemy to be so curst,
⁠They all strain curt'sie who shall cope him first.
This dismal cry rings sadly in her ear,
Through which it enters to surprize her heart:
Who overcome by doubt and bloodless fear,
With cold pale weakness nums each feeling part:
⁠Like Soldiers when their Captain once doth yield,
⁠They basely fly, and dare not stay the field. ”

“ Make use of time, let not advantage slip,
Beauty within it self would not be wasted.
⁠Fair flowers that are not gathered in their prime,
⁠Rot and consume themselves in little time. ”

“ That in each cheek appears a pretty dimple,
Love made those hollows: if himself were slain,
He might be buried in a tomb so simple:
⁠Fore-knowing well if there he came to lie,
⁠Why there Love liv'd, and there he could not die. ”

“ Till he take truce with her contending tears,
⁠Which long have rain'd, making her cheeks all wet,
⁠And one sweet kiss shall pay this countless debt.
Upon this promise did he raise his chin,
Like a Dive-dapper peering through a wave,
Who being lookt on, ducks as quickly in:
So offers he to give what she did crave,
⁠But when his Lips were ready for his pay,
⁠He winks and turns his lips another way. ”

“ Each leaning on their elbows and their hips.
Now doth she stroke his cheek, now doth he frown,
And 'gins to chide, but soon she stops his lips.
⁠And kissing speaks, with lustful language broken,
⁠If thou wilt chide, thy lips shall never open.
He burns with bashful shame, she with her tears
Doth quench the maiden-burning of his cheeks:
Then with her windy sighs, and golden hairs,
To fan and blow them dry again she seeks. ”