Shakespeare

Diavolessa

Valoris scriptorum
Shakespeare

Shakspeare - Sonetti.

You are my all the word, and I munst Strive.
To know my shames and praises from your tongue;
None else to me, nor I to none alive.
That my steeled sense or changes right or wrong.
Mark bow with my neglect I do dispense.
You are so strongly in my purpose bred.
That the words besides methinks are dead.
 

Diabolis Dassaretis

Forumium praecox
Re: Shakespeare

Nga:
SONNETS TO SUNDRY NOTES OF MUSIC

by William Shakespeare

III

Kopetë time s'kullosin dot,
Delet time s'ushqehen dot,
Deshinjtë tim s'nxitojnë dot,
Gjithçka është mbrapsh:
Dashuria ka vdekur,
Besnikësia shpërfillur,
Zemra mohuar,
Për këtë shkak.
Të gjitha vallet time të gëzueshme të harruara gati,
E gjithë dashuria e zonjës sime ka humbur, Zoti e di
Ku besnikëria e saj fort në dashuri ishte ngulitur,
Atje një jo ka zënë vend pa lëvizur.
Një brengë pakuptim
Gatoi gjithë humbjen time;
O Fat mbyllur, e mallkuar, dredharakja zonjë!
Tani unë vështroj,
Paqëndryeshmëria
Më shumë tek gratë se tek burrat rri.

Në të zeza unë vajtoj,
Gjithë dyshimet unë përçmoj,
Banja e dashurisë më dëshpëron mua,
Të rrosh në skllavëri:
Zemra gjak kullon,
Çdo ndihmë kërkon,
(Oh, xhelati nxiton!)
Përmbytur nga vreri.
Fyelli im i bariut tingullit s'ja thotë,
Këmbora e dashit të tredhur tringëllon si këmbanë për mort;
Konja ime, të luajnë me të mësuar,
Nuk lëviz fare, por duket e frikësuar;
Me ofshama të thella,
Përpiqet me qa,
Me ulërima, të shohë hallin tim trishtuar.
Sa ofshama që jehojnë
Nga trualli i pazemër,
Porsi njëmijë burra të mposhtur në përleshje të përgjakur!

Burimet e kthjellta z'bulëzojnë dot,
Zogjtë e ëmbël nuk këndojnë dot,
Pemët e gjelbra nuk bëjnë dot
Përpjetë; ato vdesin;
Bagëtitë me lot në sy,
Kopetë si të fjetura aty ,
Shtojzavallat mbrapsh klithin të friksuara.
Gjithë kënaqsitë që njohim ne fatkeqët barinj,
Gjithë takimet tona të gëzueshme në lëndina,
Gjithë zbavitja e mbrëmjes prej nesh firoi,
Gjithë dashuria jonë humbi, për Dashurinë jetë ndërroi.
Lamtumirë, vajzë e dashur,
Si ti kurrë s'ka patur
Për një kënaqsi të ëmbël, shkaktarin e gjithçkaje që më rënkon
I shkreti Koridon
Duhet të jetojë i vetmuar,
Çdo ndihmë tjetër për të unë e shoh të munguar.
 

Ofelia

Forumium praecox
Re: Shakespeare

paperina... gezon simpatine time (edhe pse nuk eshte e rendesishme mbase)...
e adhuroj Shakespeare...
Take all my loves, my love, yea, take them all;
What hast thou then more than thou hadst before?
No love, my love, that thou mayst true love call;
All mine was thine before thou hadst this more.
Then if for my love thou my love receivest,
I cannot blame thee for my love thou usest;
But yet be blamed, if thou thyself deceivest
By wilful taste of what thyself refusest.
I do forgive thy robbery, gentle thief,
Although thou steal thee all my poverty;
And yet, love knows, it is a greater grief
To bear love's wrong than hate's known injury.
Lascivious grace, in whom all ill well shows,
Kill me with spites; yet we must not be foes.

Nuk e di por me kujton
"Ketu s'do t'jem, do jem larguar..."
 

Ema

Goddes
Re: Shakespeare

Me e famshmja:

DOUbt the stars are fire,
doubt the sun does move,
doubt the truth to be a liar
but never doubt taht I love The!
 

Ema

Goddes
Re: Shakespeare

NGA OTELLO....

SCENE II. A bedchamber in the castle: DESDEMONA in bed asleep;
a light burning.

Enter OTHELLO

OTHELLO
It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul,--
Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars!--
It is the cause. Yet I'll not shed her blood;
Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow,
And smooth as monumental alabaster.
Yet she must die, else she'll betray more men.
Put out the light, and then put out the light:
If I quench thee, thou flaming minister,
I can again thy former light restore,
Should I repent me: but once put out thy light,
Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature,
I know not where is that Promethean heat
That can thy light relume. When I have pluck'd the rose,
I cannot give it vital growth again.
It must needs wither: I'll smell it on the tree.

Kissing her

Ah balmy breath, that dost almost persuade
Justice to break her sword! One more, one more.
Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee,
And love thee after. One more, and this the last:
So sweet was ne'er so fatal. I must weep,
But they are cruel tears: this sorrow's heavenly;
It strikes where it doth love. She wakes.

DESDEMONA
Who's there? Othello?

OTHELLO
Ay. Desdemona.

DESDEMONA
Will you come to bed, my lord?

OTHELLO
Have you pray'd to-night, Desdemona?

DESDEMONA
Ay, my lord.

OTHELLO
If you bethink yourself of any crime
Unreconciled as yet to heaven and grace,
Solicit for it straight.

DESDEMONA
Alas, my lord, what do you mean by that?

OTHELLO
Well, do it, and be brief; I will walk by:
I would not kill thy unprepared spirit;
No; heaven forfend! I would not kill thy soul.

DESDEMONA
Talk you of killing?

OTHELLO
Ay, I do.

DESDEMONA
Then heaven
Have mercy on me!

OTHELLO
Amen, with all my heart!

DESDEMONA
If you say so, I hope you will not kill me.

OTHELLO
Hum!

DESDEMONA
And yet I fear you; for you are fatal then
When your eyes roll so: why I should fear I know not,
Since guiltiness I know not; but yet I feel I fear.

OTHELLO
Think on thy sins.

DESDEMONA
They are loves I bear to you.

OTHELLO
Ay, and for that thou diest.

DESDEMONA
That death's unnatural that kills for loving.
Alas, why gnaw you so your nether lip?
Some bloody passion shakes your very frame:
These are portents; but yet I hope, I hope,
They do not point on me.

OTHELLO
Peace, and be still!

DESDEMONA
I will so. What's the matter?

OTHELLO
That handkerchief which I so loved and gave thee
Thou gavest to Cassio.

DESDEMONA
No, by my life and soul!
Send for the man, and ask him.

OTHELLO
Sweet soul, take heed,
Take heed of perjury; thou art on thy deathbed.

DESDEMONA
Ay, but not yet to die.

OTHELLO
Yes, presently:
Therefore confess thee freely of thy sin;
For to deny each article with oath
Cannot remove nor choke the strong conception
That I do groan withal. Thou art to die.

DESDEMONA
Then Lord have mercy on me!

OTHELLO
I say, amen.

DESDEMONA
And have you mercy too! I never did
Offend you in my life; never loved Cassio
But with such general warranty of heaven
As I might love: I never gave him token.

OTHELLO
By heaven, I saw my handkerchief in's hand.
O perjured woman! thou dost stone my heart,
And makest me call what I intend to do
A murder, which I thought a sacrifice:
I saw the handkerchief.

DESDEMONA
He found it then;
I never gave it him: send for him hither;
Let him confess a truth.

OTHELLO
He hath confess'd.

DESDEMONA
What, my lord?

OTHELLO
That he hath used thee.

DESDEMONA
How? unlawfully?

OTHELLO
Ay.

DESDEMONA
He will not say so.

OTHELLO
No, his mouth is stopp'd;
Honest Iago hath ta'en order for't.

DESDEMONA
O! my fear interprets: what, is he dead?

OTHELLO
Had all his hairs been lives, my great revenge
Had stomach for them all.

DESDEMONA
Alas! he is betray'd and I undone.

OTHELLO
Out, strumpet! weep'st thou for him to my face?

DESDEMONA
O, banish me, my lord, but kill me not!

OTHELLO
Down, strumpet!

DESDEMONA
Kill me to-morrow: let me live to-night!

OTHELLO
Nay, if you strive--

DESDEMONA
But half an hour!

OTHELLO
Being done, there is no pause.

DESDEMONA
But while I say one prayer!

OTHELLO
It is too late.

He stifles her

EMILIA
[Within] My lord , my lord! what, ho! my lord, my lord!

OTHELLO
What noise is this? Not dead? not yet quite dead?
I that am cruel am yet merciful;
I would not have thee linger in thy pain: So, so.

EMILIA
[Within] What, ho! my lord, my lord!

OTHELLO
Who's there?

EMILIA
[Within] O, good my lord, I would speak a word with you!

OTHELLO
Yes: 'tis Emilia. By and by. She's dead.
'Tis like she comes to speak of Cassio's death.--
The noise was here. Ha! no more moving?
Still as the grave. Shall she come in? were't good?--
I think she stirs again:--no. What's best to do?
If she come in, she'll sure speak to my wife:
My wife! my wife! what wife? I have no wife.
O insupportable! O heavy hour!
Methinks it should be now a huge eclipse
Of sun and moon, and that the affrighted globe
Should yawn at alteration.

EMILIA
[Within] I do beseech you
That I may speak with you, O, good my lord!

OTHELLO
I had forgot thee: O, come in, Emilia;
Soft; by and by. Let me the curtains draw.
Where art thou?

Unlocks the door

Enter EMILIA

What's the matter with thee now?

EMILIA
O, my good lord, yonder's foul murders done!

OTHELLO
What, now?

EMILIA
But now, my lord.

OTHELLO
It is the very error of the moon;
She comes more nearer earth than she was wont,
And makes men mad.

EMILIA
Cassio, my lord, hath kill'd a young Venetian
Call'd Roderigo.

OTHELLO
Roderigo kill'd!
And Cassio kill'd!

EMILIA
No, Cassio is not kill'd.

OTHELLO
Not Cassio kill'd! then murder's out of tune,
And sweet revenge grows harsh.

DESDEMONA
O, falsely, falsely murder'd!

EMILIA
Alas, what cry is that?

OTHELLO
That! what?

EMILIA
Out, and alas! that was my lady's voice.
Help! help, ho! help! O lady, speak again!
Sweet Desdemona! O sweet mistress, speak!

DESDEMONA
A guiltless death I die.

EMILIA
O, who hath done this deed?

DESDEMONA
Nobody; I myself. Farewell
Commend me to my kind lord: O, farewell!

Dies

OTHELLO
Why, how should she be murder'd?

EMILIA
Alas, who knows?

OTHELLO
You heard her say herself, it was not I.

EMILIA
She said so: I must needs report the truth.

OTHELLO
She's, like a liar, gone to burning hell:
'Twas I that kill'd her.

EMILIA
O, the more angel she,
And you the blacker devil!

OTHELLO
She turn'd to folly, and she was a whore.

EMILIA
Thou dost belie her, and thou art a devil.

OTHELLO
She was false as water.

EMILIA
Thou art rash as fire, to say
That she was false: O, she was heavenly true!

OTHELLO
Cassio did top her; ask thy husband else.
O, I were damn'd beneath all depth in hell,
But that I did proceed upon just grounds
To this extremity. Thy husband knew it all.

EMILIA
My husband!

OTHELLO
Thy husband.

EMILIA
That she was false to wedlock?

OTHELLO
Ay, with Cassio. Nay, had she been true,
If heaven would make me such another world
Of one entire and Perfect chrysolite,
I'ld not have sold her for it.

EMILIA
My husband!

OTHELLO
Ay, 'twas he that told me first:
An honest man he is, and hates the slime
That sticks on filthy deeds.

EMILIA
My husband!

OTHELLO
What needs this iteration, woman? I say thy husband.

EMILIA
O mistress, villany hath made mocks with love,
My husband say that she was false!

OTHELLO
He, woman;
I say thy husband: dost understand the word?
My friend, thy husband, honest, honest Iago.

EMILIA
If he say so, may his pernicious soul
Rot half a grain a day! he lies to the heart:
She was too fond of her most filthy bargain.

OTHELLO
Ha!

EMILIA
Do thy worst:
This deed of thine is no more worthy heaven
Than thou wast worthy her.

OTHELLO
Peace, you were best.

EMILIA
Thou hast not half that power to do me harm
As I have to be hurt. O gull! O dolt!
As ignorant as dirt! thou hast done a deed--
I care not for thy sword; I'll make thee known,
Though I lost twenty lives.--Help! help, ho! help!
The Moor hath kill'd my mistress! Murder! murder!

Enter MONTANO, GRATIANO, IAGO, and others

MONTANO
What is the matter? How now, general!

EMILIA
O, are you come, Iago? you have done well,
That men must lay their murders on your neck.

GRATIANO
What is the matter?

EMILIA
Disprove this villain, if thou be'st a man:
He says thou told'st him that his wife was false:
I know thou didst not, thou'rt not such a villain:
Speak, for my heart is full.

IAGO
I told him what I thought, and told no more
Than what he found himself was apt and true.

EMILIA
But did you ever tell him she was false?

IAGO
I did.

EMILIA
You told a lie, an odious, damned lie;
Upon my soul, a lie, a wicked lie.
She false with Cassio!--did you say with Cassio?

IAGO
With Cassio, mistress. Go to, charm your tongue.

EMILIA
I will not charm my tongue; I am bound to speak:
My mistress here lies murder'd in her bed,--

All
O heavens forfend!

EMILIA
And your reports have set the murder on.

OTHELLO
Nay, stare not, masters: it is true, indeed.

GRATIANO
'Tis a strange truth.

MONTANO
O monstrous act!

EMILIA
Villany, villany, villany!
I think upon't, I think: I smell't: O villany!--
I thought so then:--I'll kill myself for grief:--
O villany, villany!

IAGO
What, are you mad? I charge you, get you home.

EMILIA
Good gentlemen, let me have leave to speak:
'Tis proper I obey him, but not now.
Perchance, Iago, I will ne'er go home.

OTHELLO
O! O! O!

He falls on the bed

EMILIA
Nay, lay thee down and roar;
For thou hast kill'd the sweetest innocent
That e'er did lift up eye.

OTHELLO
[Rising] O, she was foul!
I scarce did know you, uncle: there lies your niece,
Whose breath, indeed, these hands have newly stopp'd:
I know this act shows horrible and grim.

GRATIANO
Poor Desdemona! I am glad thy father's dead:
Thy match was mortal to him, and pure grief
Shore his old thread in twain: did he live now,
This sight would make him do a desperate turn,
Yea, curse his better angel from his side,
And fall to reprobation.

OTHELLO
'Tis pitiful; but yet Iago knows
That she with Cassio hath the act of shame
A thousand times committed; Cassio confess'd it:
And she did gratify his amorous works
With that recognizance and pledge of love
Which I first gave her; I saw it in his hand:
It was a handkerchief, an antique token
My father gave my mother.

EMILIA
O heaven! O heavenly powers!

IAGO
Come, hold your peace.

EMILIA
'Twill out, 'twill out: I peace!
No, I will speak as liberal as the north:
Let heaven and men and devils, let them all,
All, all, cry shame against me, yet I'll speak.

IAGO
Be wise, and get you home.

EMILIA
I will not.

IAGO offers to stab EMILIA

GRATIANO
Fie!
Your sword upon a woman?

EMILIA
O thou dull Moor! that handkerchief thou speak'st of
I found by fortune and did give my husband;
For often, with a solemn earnestness,
More than indeed belong'd to such a trifle,
He begg'd of me to steal it.

IAGO
Villanous whore!

EMILIA
She give it Cassio! no, alas! I found it,
And I did give't my husband.

IAGO
Filth, thou liest!

EMILIA
By heaven, I do not, I do not, gentlemen.
O murderous coxcomb! what should such a fool
Do with so good a woman?

OTHELLO
Are there no stones in heaven
But what serve for the thunder?--Precious villain!

He runs at IAGO IAGO, from behind, stabs EMILIA, and exit

GRATIANO
The woman falls; sure, he hath kill'd his wife.

EMILIA
Ay, ay: O, lay me by my mistress' side.

GRATIANO
He's gone, but his wife's kill'd.

MONTANO
'Tis a notorious villain. Take you this weapon,
Which I have here recover'd from the Moor:
Come, guard the door without; let him not pass,
But kill him rather. I'll after that same villain,
For 'tis a damned slave.

Exeunt MONTANO and GRATIANO

OTHELLO
I am not valiant neither,
But ever puny whipster gets my sword:
But why should honour outlive honesty?
Let it go all.

EMILIA
What did thy song bode, lady?
Hark, canst thou hear me? I will play the swan.
And die in music.

Singing

Willow, willow, willow,--
Moor, she was chaste; she loved thee, cruel Moor;
So come my soul to bliss, as I speak true;
So speaking as I think, I die, I die.

Dies

OTHELLO
I have another weapon in this chamber;
It is a sword of Spain, the ice-brook's temper:--
O, here it is. Uncle, I must come forth.

GRATIANO
[Within] If thou attempt it, it will cost thee dear:
Thou hast no weapon, and perforce must suffer.

OTHELLO
Look in upon me then and speak with me,
Or, naked as I am, I will assault thee.

Re-enter GRATIANO

GRATIANO
What is the matter?

OTHELLO
Behold, I have a weapon;
A better never did itself sustain
Upon a soldier's thigh: I have seen the day,
That, with this little arm and this good sword,
I have made my way through more impediments
Than twenty times your stop: but, O vain boast!
Who can control his fate? 'tis not so now.
Be not afraid, though you do see me weapon'd;
Here is my journey's end, here is my butt,
And very sea-mark of my utmost sail.
Do you go back dismay'd? 'tis a lost fear;
Man but a rush against Othello's breast,
And he retires. Where should Othello go?
Now, how dost thou look now? O ill-starr'd wench!
Pale as thy smock! when we shall meet at compt,
This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven,
And fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my girl!
Even like thy chastity. O cursed slave!
Whip me, ye devils,
From the possession of this heavenly sight!
Blow me about in winds! roast me in sulphur!
Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire!
O Desdemona! Desdemona! dead!
Oh! Oh! Oh!

Enter LODOVICO. MONTANO, CASSIO carried in a chair, and Officers with IAGO, prisoner

LODOVICO
Where is this rash and most unfortunate man?

OTHELLO
That's he that was Othello: here I am.

LODOVICO
Where is that viper? bring the villain forth.

OTHELLO
I look down towards his feet; but that's a fable.
If that thou best a devil, I cannot kill thee.

Wounds IAGO

LODOVICO
Wrench his sword from him.

IAGO
I bleed, sir; but not kill'd.

OTHELLO
I am not sorry neither: I'ld have thee live;
For, in my sense, 'tis happiness to die.

LODOVICO
O thou Othello, thou wert once so good,
Fall'n in the practise of a damned slave,
What shall be said to thee?

OTHELLO
Why, any thing:
An honourable murderer, if you will;
For nought I did in hate, but all in honour.

LODOVICO
This wretch hath part confess'd his villany:
Did you and he consent in Cassio's death?

OTHELLO
Ay.

CASSIO
Dear general, I never gave you cause.

OTHELLO
I do believe it, and I ask your pardon.
Will you, I pray, demand that demi-devil
Why he hath thus ensnared my soul and body?

IAGO
Demand me nothing: what you know, you know:
From this time forth I never will speak word.

LODOVICO
What, not to pray?

GRATIANO
Torments will ope your lips.

OTHELLO
Well, thou dost best.

LODOVICO
Sir, you shall understand what hath befall'n,
Which, as I think, you know not. Here is a letter
Found in the pocket of the slain Roderigo;
And here another: the one of them imports
The death of Cassio to be undertook
By Roderigo.

OTHELLO
O villain!

CASSIO
Most heathenish and most gross!

LODOVICO
Now here's another discontented paper,
Found in his pocket too; and this, it seems,
Roderigo meant to have sent this damned villain;
But that belike Iago in the interim
Came in and satisfied him.

OTHELLO
O the pernicious caitiff!
How came you, Cassio, by that handkerchief
That was my wife's?

CASSIO
I found it in my chamber:
And he himself confess'd but even now
That there he dropp'd it for a special purpose
Which wrought to his desire.

OTHELLO
O fool! fool! fool!

CASSIO
There is besides in Roderigo's letter,
How he upbraids Iago, that he made him
Brave me upon the watch; whereon it came
That I was cast: and even but now he spake,
After long seeming dead, Iago hurt him,
Iago set him on.

LODOVICO
You must forsake this room, and go with us:
Your power and your command is taken off,
And Cassio rules in Cyprus. For this slave,
If there be any cunning cruelty
That can torment him much and hold him long,
It shall be his. You shall close prisoner rest,
Till that the nature of your fault be known
To the Venetian state. Come, bring him away.

OTHELLO
Soft you; a word or two before you go.
I have done the state some service, and they know't.
No more of that. I pray you, in your letters,
When you shall these unlucky deeds relate,
Speak of me as I am; nothing extenuate,
Nor set down aught in malice: then must you speak
Of one that loved not wisely but too well;
Of one not easily jealous, but being wrought
Perplex'd in the extreme; of one whose hand,
Like the base Indian, threw a pearl away
Richer than all his tribe; of one whose subdued eyes,
Albeit unused to the melting mood,
Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees
Their medicinal gum. Set you down this;
And say besides, that in Aleppo once,
Where a malignant and a turban'd Turk
Beat a Venetian and traduced the state,
I took by the throat the circumcised dog,
And smote him, thus.

Stabs himself

LODOVICO
O bloody period!

GRATIANO
All that's spoke is marr'd.

OTHELLO
I kiss'd thee ere I kill'd thee: no way but this;
Killing myself, to die upon a kiss.

Falls on the bed, and dies

CASSIO
This did I fear, but thought he had no weapon;
For he was great of heart.

LODOVICO
[To IAGO] O Spartan dog,
More fell than anguish, hunger, or the sea!
Look on the tragic loading of this bed;
This is thy work: the object poisons sight;
Let it be hid. Gratiano, keep the house,
And seize upon the fortunes of the Moor,
For they succeed on you. To you, lord governor,
Remains the censure of this hellish villain;
The time, the place, the torture: O, enforce it!
Myself will straight aboard: and to the state
This heavy act with heavy heart relate.

Exeunt
 

Ema

Goddes
Re: Shakespeare

“Venus, with young Adonis sitting by her”


VENUS, with young Adonis sitting by her
Under a myrtle shade, began to woo him:
She told the youngling how god Mars did try her,
And as he fell to her, so fell she to him.
‘Even thus,’ quoth she, ‘the war-like god embrac’d me,’ 5
And then she clipp’d Adonis in her arms;
‘Even thus,’ quoth she, ‘the war-like god unlac’d me,’
As if the boy should use like loving charms.
‘Even thus,’ quoth she, ‘he seized on my lips,’
And with her lips on his did act the seizure; 10
And as she fetched breath, away he skips,
And would not take her meaning nor her pleasure.
Ah! that I had my lady at this bay,
To kiss and clip me till I run away.
 

Ema

Goddes
Re: Shakespeare

“Good night, good rest. Ah! neither be my share”


GOOD night, good rest. Ah! neither be my share:
She bade good night that kept my rest away;
And daff’d me to a cabin hang’d with care,
To descant on the doubts of my decay.
‘Farewell,’ quoth she, ‘and come again to-morrow:’ 5
Fare well I could not, for I supp’d with sorrow.

Yet at my parting sweetly did she smile,
In scorn or friendship, nill I construe whether:
’T may be, she joy’d to jest at my exile,
’T may be, again to make me wander thither: 10
‘Wander,’ a word for shadows like myself,
As take the pain, but cannot pluck the pelf.

Lord! how mine eyes throw gazes to the east;
My heart doth charge the watch; the morning rise
Doth cite each moving sense from idle rest. 15
Not daring trust the office of mine eyes,
While Philomela sits and sings, I sit and mark,
And wish her lays were tuned like the lark;

For she doth welcome daylight with her ditty,
And drives away dark dismal-dreaming night: 20
The night so pack’d, I post unto my pretty;
Heart hath his hope, and eyes their wished sight;
Sorrow chang’d to solace, solace mix’d with sorrow;
For why, she sigh’d and bade me come to-morrow.

Were I with her, the night would post too soon; 25
But now are minutes added to the hours;
To spite me now, each minute seems a moon;
Yet not for me, shine sun to succour flowers!
Pack night, peep day; good day, of night now borrow:
Short, night, to-night, and length thyself to-morrow.
 

Ema

Goddes
Re: Shakespeare

The Passionate Pilgrim, V.

“If love make me forsworn, how shall I swear to love?”


IF love make me forsworn, how shall I swear to love?
O! never faith could hold, if not to beauty vow’d:
Though to myself forsworn, to thee I ’ll constant prove;
Those thoughts, to me like oaks, to thee like osiers bow’d.
Study his bias leaves, and makes his book thine eyes, 5
Where all those pleasures live that art can comprehend.
If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall suffice;
Well learned is that tongue that well can thee commend;
All ignorant that soul that sees thee without wonder;
Which is to me some praise, that I thy parts admire: 10
Thine eye Jove’s lightning seems, thy voice his dreadful thunder,
Which, not to anger bent, is music and sweet fire,
Celestial as thou art, O! do not love that wrong,
To sing heaven’s praise with such an earthly tongue.
 

Ema

Goddes
Re: Shakespeare

The Passionate Pilgrim, I.

“When my love swears that she is made of truth”


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 untutor’d youth,
Unskilful in the world’s false forgeries.
Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young, 5
Although I know my years be past the best,
I smiling credit her false-speaking tongue,
Outfacing faults in love with love’s ill rest.
But wherefore says my love that she is young?
And wherefore say not I that I am old? 10
O! love’s best habit is a soothing tongue,
And age, in love, loves not to have years told.
Therefore I ’ll lie with love, and love with me,
Since that our faults in love thus smother’d be.
 

Ema

Goddes
Re: Shakespeare

The Passionate Pilgrim, X.

“Sweet rose, fair flower, untimely pluck’d, soon vaded”


SWEET rose, fair flower, untimely pluck’d, soon vaded,
Pluck’d in the bud, and vaded in the spring!
Bright orient pearl, alack! too timely shaded;
Fair creature, kill’d too soon by death’s sharp sting!
Like a green plum that hangs upon a tree, 5
And falls, through wind, before the fall should be.

I weep for thee, and yet no cause I have;
For why thou left’st me nothing in thy will:
And yet thou left’st me more than I did crave;
For why I craved nothing of thee still: 10
O yes, dear friend, I pardon crave of thee,
Thy discontent thou didst bequeath to me.
 

Ema

Goddes
Re: Shakespeare

Sonnet II.

“When forty winters shall besiege thy brow”


WHEN forty winters shall besiege thy brow
And dig deep trenches in thy beauty’s field,
Thy youth’s proud livery, so gaz’d on now,
Will be a tatter’d weed, of small worth held:
Then being ask’d, where all thy beauty lies, 5
Where all the treasure of thy lusty days,
To say, within thine own deep-sunken eyes,
Were an all-eating shame and thriftless praise.
How much more praise deserv’d thy beauty’s use,
If thou couldst answer ‘This fair child of mine 10
Shall sum my count, and make my old excuse,’
Proving his beauty by succession thine!
This were to be new made when thou art old,
And see thy blood warm when thou feel’st it cold.
 

Ema

Goddes
Re: Shakespeare

Sonnet XL.

“Take all my loves, my love, yea, take them all”


TAKE all my loves, my love, yea, take them all
What hast thou then more than thou hadst before?
No love, my love, that thou mayst true love call;
All mine was thine before thou hadst this more.
Then, if for my love thou my love receivest, 5
I cannot blame thee for my love thou usest;
But yet be blam’d, if thou thyself deceivest
By wilful taste of what thyself refusest.
I do forgive thy robbery, gentle thief,
Although thou steal thee all my poverty; 10
And yet, love knows it is a greater grief
To bear love’s wrong than hate’s known injury.
Lascivious grace, in whom all ill well shows,
Kill me with spites; yet we must not be foes.
 

Ema

Goddes
Re: Shakespeare

Sonnet LVI.

“Sweet love, renew thy force; be it not said”


SWEET love, renew thy force; be it not said
Thy edge should blunter be than appetite,
Which but to-day by feeding is allay’d,
To-morrow sharpen’d in his former might:
So, love, be thou; although to-day thou fill 5
Thy hungry eyes, even till they wink with fulness,
To-morrow see again, and do not kill
The spirit of love with a perpetual dulness.
Let this sad interim like the ocean be
Which parts the shore, where two contracted new 10
Come daily to the banks, that, when they see
Return of love, more bless’d may be the view;
Or call it winter, which, being full of care,
Makes summer’s welcome thrice more wish’d, more rare.
 

Ema

Goddes
Re: Shakespeare

Sonnet LVII.

“Being your slave, what should I do but tend”


BEING your slave, what should I do but tend
Upon the hours and times of your desire?
I have no precious time at all to spend,
Nor services to do, till you require.
Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour, 5
Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you,
Nor think the bitterness of absence sour
When you have bid your servant once adieu;
Nor dare I question with my jealous thought
Where you may be, or your affairs suppose, 10
But, like a sad slave, stay and think of nought,
Save, where you are how happy you make those.
So true a fool is love that in your will,
Though you do anything, he thinks no ill.
 

Ema

Goddes
Re: Shakespeare

Sonnet XCVIII.

“From you have I been absent in the spring”


FROM you have I been absent in the spring
When proud-pied April, dress’d in all his trim,
Hath put a spirit of youth in every thing,
That heavy Saturn laugh’d and leap’d with him.
Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell 5
Of different flowers in odour and in hue,
Could make me any summer’s story tell,
Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew:
Nor did I wonder at the lily’s white,
Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose; 10
They were but sweet, but figures of delight,
Drawn after you, you pattern of all those.
Yet seem’d it winter still, and you away,
As with your shadow I with these did play.
 

Ema

Goddes
Re: Shakespeare

Sonnet CXIII.

“Since I left you, mine eye is in my mind”


SINCE I left you, mine eye is in my mind
And that which governs me to go about
Doth part his function and is partly blind,
Seems seeing, but effectually is out;
For it no form delivers to the heart 5
Of bird, of flower, or shape, which it doth latch:
Of his quick objects hath the mind no part,
Nor his own vision holds what it doth catch;
For if it see the rud’st or gentlest sight,
The most sweet favour or deformed’st creature, 10
The mountain or the sea, the day or night,
The crow or dove, it shapes them to your feature:
Incapable of more, replete with you,
My most true mind thus maketh mine untrue.
 

Ema

Goddes
Re: Shakespeare

Sonnet CXXXIX.

“O! call not me to justify the wrong”


O! CALL not me to justify the wrong
That thy unkindness lays upon my heart;
Wound me not with thine eye, but with thy tongue:
Use power with power, and slay me not by art.
Tell me thou lovest elsewhere; but in my sight, 5
Dear heart, forbear to glance thine eye aside:
What need’st thou wound with cunning, when thy might
Is more than my o’erpress’d defence can bide?
Let me excuse thee: ah! my love well knows
Her pretty looks have been my enemies; 10
And therefore from my face she turns my foes,
That they elsewhere might dart their injuries:
Yet do not so; but since I am near slain,
Kill me outright with looks, and rid my pain.
 

Ema

Goddes
Re: Shakespeare

Sonnet CLIII.

“Cupid laid by his brand and fell asleep”


CUPID laid by his brand and fell asleep
A maid of Dian’s this advantage found,
And his love-kindling fire did quickly steep
In a cold valley-fountain of that ground;
Which borrow’d from this holy fire of Love 5
A dateless lively heat, still to endure,
And grew a seething bath, which yet men prove
Against strange maladies a sovereign cure.
But at my mistress’ eye Love’s brand new-fired,
The boy for trial needs would touch my breast; 10
I, sick withal, the help of bath desired,
And thither hied, a sad distemper’d guest,
But found no cure: the bath for my help lies
Where Cupid got new fire, my mistress’ eyes.
 

Ema

Goddes
Re: Shakespeare

Sonnets to Sundry Notes of Music, V.

“Live with me, and be my love”


LIVE with me, and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That hills and valleys, dales and fields,
And all the craggy mountains yields.

There will we sit upon the rocks, 5
And see the shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow rivers, by whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.

There will I make thee a bed of roses,
With a thousand fragrant posies, 10
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroider’d all with leaves of myrtle.

A belt of straw and ivy buds,
With coral clasps and amber studs;
And if these pleasures may thee move, 15
Then live with me and be my love.

LOVE’S ANSWER

If that the world and love were young,
And truth in every shepherd’s tongue,
These pretty pleasures might me move,
To live with thee and be thy love.
 

Diabolis Dassaretis

Forumium praecox
Re: Shakespeare

The Passionate Pilgrim botuar filimisht 20 sonetet e para në 1599. Një botim i dytë i ka humbur. Në botimin e tretë 1612, ka shtesa nga i pari të marra nga Thomas Heywood Troia Britanica (1609) autori i mërzitur, i mërzitur dhe Shekspiri për piracinë që botuesit e kishin bërë.
Prej atij çasti është një listë e gjatë me vargjet e atyre 20 soneteve që ju përkasin të tjerëve. Nga ato që kam lexuar vetë:
Vargjet: Live with me, ande be my love
... etj
janë të Marlowe botuar England's Helicon (1600) të shoqëruara me përgjigjen "The Nymph's Reply to the Shepherd" që i takojnë Sir Walter Raleigh.
që mund të gjenden tek ndonjë antologji e poezisë angleze.
E historia e Shekspirit ka dhe një të vetme poemë tjetër A Lover's Complaint për të cilën siç thonë kritikët "there are only a few reasons for assingning."
Gjithsesi në do të kem gjithmonë dy mundësi do të zgjedh Shekspirin.
 
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