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English dramatist and poet
(1564 - 1616)
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Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things;
  Some shall be pardoned, and some punished;
    For never was a story of more woe
      Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.
      - Romeo and Juliet (Prince at V, iii)
        [Books (Last Lines)]

Here, here I will remain
  With worms that are thy chambermaids. O, here
    Will I set up my everlasting rest
      And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars
        From this world-wearied flesh. Eyes, look your last!
          Arms, take your last embrace! and lips, O you
            The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss
              A dateless bargain to engrossing death!
      - Romeo and Juliet (Romeo at V, iii) [Death]

I'll bury thee in a triumphant grave.
  A grave? O, no, a lanthorn, slaught'red youth,
    For here lies Juliet, and her beauty makes
      This vault a feasting presence full of light.
        Death, lie thou there, by a dead man interred.
          How oft when men are at the point of death
            Have they been merry! which their keepers call
              A lightning before death. O, how may I
                Call this a lightning? O my love! my wife!
                  Death, that hath sucked the honey of thy breath,
                    Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty.
                      Thou art not conquered. Beauty's ensign yet
                        Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks,
                          And death's pale flag is not advanced there.
      - Romeo and Juliet (Romeo at V, iii) [Death]

O churl! drink all; and leave no friendly drop!
      - Romeo and Juliet (Juliet at V, iii)

O, give me thy hand,
  One writ with me in sour misfortnue's book!
      - Romeo and Juliet (Romeo at V, iii)

O, no, a lanthorn, slaught'red youth,
  For here lies Juliet, and her beauty makes
    This vault a feasting presence full of light.
      - Romeo and Juliet (Romeo at V, iii)

Tempt not a desperate man.
      - Romeo and Juliet (Romeo at V, iii)

Death, that hath sucked the honey of thy breath,
  Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty.
    Thou are not conquered. Beauty's ensign yet
      Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks,
        And death's pale flag is not advanced there.
      - Romeo and Juliet (Romeo at V,iii),
        similar in Richard Johnson's "Famous History of the Seven Champions of Christendom"

O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends
  For thy neglect of truth in beauty dyed?
    Both truth and beauty on my love depends;
      So dost thou too, and therein dignified.
        Make answer, Muse: wilt thou not haply say,
          'Truth needs no color with his color fixed,'
            Beauty no pencil, beauty's truth to lay;
              But best is best, if never intermixed.'
      - Sonnet CI [Truth]

Our love was new, and then but in the spring,
  When I was wont to greet it with my lays,
    As Philomel in summer's front doth sing
      And stops her pipe in growth of riper days;
        Not that the summer is less pleasant now
          Than when her mournful hymns did hush the night,
            But that wild music burdens every bough,
              And sweets grown common lose their dear delight.
      - Sonnet CII [Familiarity]

That is my home of love: if I have ranged,
  Like him that travels I return again,
    Just to the time, not with the time exchanged.
      - Sonnet CIX [Home]

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
  Admit impediments; love is not love
    Which alters when it alteration finds
      Or bends with the remover to remove.
        O, no, it is an ever-fixed mark
          That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
            It is the star to every wand'ring bark,
              Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
      - Sonnet CXVI [Inconstancy]

Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
  With his bending sickle's compass come;
    Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
      But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
      - Sonnet CXVI [Love]

When my love swears that she is made of truth
  I do believe her, though I know she lies,
    That she might think me some untutored youth.
      - Sonnet CXXXVIII [Truth]

Thou art thy mother's glass, and she in thee
  Calls back the lovely April of her prime;
    So thou through windows of thine age shalt see,
      Despite of wrinkles, this thy golden time.
      - Sonnet III (l. 9) [Youth]

The bloody spur cannot provoke him on
  That sometimes anger thrusts into his hide,
    Which heavily he answers with a groan,
      More sharp to me than spurring to his side;
        For that same groan doth put this in my mind:
          My grief lies onward and my joy behind.
      - Sonnet L [Grief]

O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem
  By that sweet ornament which truth doth give:
    The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem
      For that sweet odor which doth in it live.
      - Sonnet LIV [Beauty]

The canker blooms have full as deep a dye
  As the perfumed tincture of the roses,
    Hang on such thorns, and play as wantonly
      When summer's breath their masked buds discloses;
        But, for their virtue only is their show,
          They live unwooed and unrespected fade,
            Die to themselves.
      - Sonnet LIV [Perfume]

Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth
  And delves the parallels in beauty's brow,
    Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth,
      And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow:
        And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand,
          Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand.
      - Sonnet LX [Time]

They look into the beauty of thy mind,
  And that in guess they measure by thy deeds;
    Then, churls, their thoughts, although their eyes were kind,
      To thy fair flower add the rank smell of weeds:
        But why thy odor matcheth not thy show,
          The soil is this, that thou dost common grow.
      - Sonnet LXIX [Deeds]

O, how shall summer's honey breath hold out
  Against the wrackful siege of batt'ring days,
    When rocks impregnable are not so stout,
      Nor gates of steel so strong but Time decays?
        O fearful meditation: where, alack,
          Shall Time's best jewel from Time's chest lie hid?
            Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back,
              Or who his spoil or beauty can forbid?
      - Sonnet LXV [Time]

Tired with all these, for restful death I cry:
  As, to behold desert a beggar born,
    And needy nothing trimmed 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 away disabled,
                And art made tongue-tied by authority,
                  And folly (doctor-like) controlling skill,
                    And simple truth miscalled 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.
      - Sonnet LXVI [Truth]

Thus is his cheek the map of days outworn
  When beauty lived and died as flowers do now,
    Before these bastard signs of fair were born
      Or durst inhabit on a living brow; . . .
      - Sonnet LXVIII [Face]

That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect,
  For slander's mark was ever yet the fair;
    The ornament of beauty is suspect,
      A crow that flies in heaven's sweetest air.
        So thou be good, slander doth but approve
          Thy worth the greater, being wooed of time;
            For canker vice the sweetest buds doth love,
              And thou present'st a pure unstained prime.
      - Sonnet LXX [Slander]

So are you to my thoughts as food to life,
  Or as sweet-seasoned showers are to the ground;
    And for the peace of you I hold such strife
      As 'twixt a miser and his wealth is found:
        Now proud as an enjoyer, and anon
          Doubting the filching age will steal his treasure;
            Now counting best to be with you alone,
              Then better that the world may see my pleasure;
                Sometime all full with feasting on your sight,
                  And by and by clean starved for a look,
                    Possessing or pursuing no delight
                      Save what is had or must from you be took.
                        Thus do I pine and surfeit day by day,
                          Or gluttoning on all, or all away.
      - Sonnet LXXV [Peace]

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