Then let not winter’s ragged hand deface,
In thee thy summer, ere thou be distill’d:
Make sweet some vial; treasure thou some place
With beauty’s treasure ere it be self-kill’d.
That use is not forbidden usury,
Which happies those that pay the willing loan;
That’s for thy self to breed another thee,
Or ten times happier, be it ten for one;
Ten times thy self were happier than thou art,
If ten of thine ten times refigur’d thee:
Then what could death do if thou shouldst depart,
Leaving thee living in posterity?
Be not self-will’d, for thou art much too fair
To be death’s conquest and make worms thine heir.
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.’
Blow, blow thou winter wind?
Thou art not so unkind
As man’s ingratitude!
Thy tooth is not so keen,
Because thou art not seen,
Although thy breath be rude.
Heigh ho! sing heigh ho! unto the green holly:
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly.
Then heigh ho! the holly!
This life is most jolly!
Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky?
Thou dost not bite so nigh
As benefits forgot!
Though thou the waters warp,
Thy sting is not so sharp
As friend remembered not.
Heigh ho! sing heigh ho! unto the green holly,
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly.
Then heigh ho, the holly!
This life is most jolly!
?? Crabbed age and youth
???? Cannot live together
?? Youth is full of pleasance,
???? Age is full of care;
?? Youth like summer morn,
???? Age like winter weather;
?? Youth like summer brave,
???? Age like winter bare;
?? Youth is full of sport,
?? Age’s breath is short;
???? Youth is nimble, age is lame;
?? Youth is hot and bold,
?? Age is weak and cold;
???? Youth is wild, and age is tame.
?? Age, I do abhor thee;
?? Youth, I do adore thee;
???? O, my love, my love is young!
?? Age, I do defy thee;
?? O, sweet shepherd, hie thee,
?? For methinks thou stay’st too long.
"Macbeth consulting the Vision of the Armed Head" by Johann Heinrich F?ssli
Macbeth (ACT IV. SCENE I.) by William shakespeare
A cavern. In the middle, a boiling cauldron. Thunder.
Enter the three Witches.
? FIRST WITCH. Thrice the brinded cat hath mew’d.
? SECOND WITCH. Thrice and once the hedge-pig whined.
? THIRD WITCH. Harpier cries, “‘Tis time, ’tis time.”
? FIRST WITCH. Round about the cauldron go;
??? In the poison’d entrails throw.
??? Toad, that under cold stone
??? Days and nights has thirty-one
??? Swelter’d venom sleeping got,
??? Boil thou first i’ the charmed pot.
? ALL. Double, double, toil and trouble;
??? Fire burn and cauldron bubble.
? SECOND WITCH. Fillet of a fenny snake,
??? In the cauldron boil and bake;
??? Eye of newt and toe of frog,
??? Wool of bat and tongue of dog,
??? Adder’s fork and blind-worm’s sting,
??? Lizard’s leg and howlet’s wing,
??? For a charm of powerful trouble,
??? Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
? ALL. Double, double, toil and trouble;
??? Fire burn and cauldron bubble.
? THIRD WITCH. Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf,
??? Witch’s mummy, maw and gulf
??? Of the ravin’d salt-sea shark,
??? Root of hemlock digg’d i’ the dark,
??? Liver of blaspheming Jew,
??? Gall of goat and slips of yew
??? Sliver’d in the moon’s eclipse,
??? Nose of Turk and Tartar’s lips,
??? Finger of birth-strangled babe
??? Ditch-deliver’d by a drab,
??? Make the gruel thick and slab.
??? Add thereto a tiger’s chawdron,
??? For the ingredients of our cawdron.
? ALL. Double, double, toil and trouble;
??? Fire burn and cauldron bubble.
? SECOND WITCH. Cool it with a baboon’s blood,
??? Then the charm is firm and good.
“Over Hill, Over Dale”
Over hill, over dale,
Thorough bush, thorough brier,
Over park, over pale,
Thorough flood, thorough fire.
I do wander everywhere,
Swifter than the moone’s sphere.
And I serve the Fairy Queen,
To dew her orbs upon the green;
The cowslips tall her pensioners be,
In their gold coats spots you see,
Those be rubies, Fairy favors:
In those freckles live their savors.
I must go seek some dew-drops here,
And hang a pearl in every cowslip’s ear.
William Shakespeare was born at Stratford-on-Avon in April, 1564, and died there April 23, 1616. His fame rests chiefly upon his dramatic compositions. His two narrative poems, “Venus
William Shakespeare (1564-1616)
THE WORLD’S WAY (SONNET LXVI)
Tired with all these, for restful death I cry,?
As, to behold desert a beggar born,
And needy nothing trimm’d in jollity,
And purest faith unhappily forsworn,
And gilded honor shamefully misplaced,
And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted,
And right perfection wrongfully disgraced,
And strength by limping sway disabled,
And art made tongue-tied by authority,
And folly, doctor-like, controlling skill,
And simple truth miscall’d simplicity,
And captive Good attending captain Ill:
Tired with all these, from these would I be gone,?
Save that, to die, I leave my Love alone.
My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun by William Shakespeare
(Sonnet 130)
My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips’ red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress when she walks treads on the ground.
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.
Shall I compare thee to a Summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And Summer’s lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And oft’ is his gold complexion dimm’d;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm’d:
But thy eternal Summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wanderest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
