Love is too young to know what conscience is;
Yet who knows not conscience is born of love?
Then, gentle cheater, urge not my amiss,
Lest guilty of my faults thy sweet self prove:
For, thou betraying me, I do betray
My nobler part to my gross body's treason;
My soul doth tell my body that he may
Triumph in love; flesh stays no father reason;
But, rising at thy name, doth point out thee
As his triumphant prize. Proud of this pride,
He is contented thy poor drudge to be,
To stand in thy affairs, fall by thy side.
No want of conscience hold it that I call
Her 'love' for whose dear love I rise and fall.
written by William Shakespeare, published on Thu 06.18.2009 at 06:20
Alack, what poverty my Muse brings forth,
That having such a scope to show her pride,
The argument all bare is of more worth
written by William Shakespeare, published on Tue 06.09.2009 at 06:20
What's in the brain that ink may character
Which hath not figured to thee my true spirit?
written by William Shakespeare, published on Fri 05.22.2009 at 06:57
Music to hear, why hear'st thou music sadly?
Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy.
written by William Shakespeare, published on Sat 05.09.2009 at 20:30
But wherefore do not you a mightier way
Make war upon this bloody tyrant, Time,
And fortify your self in your decay
written by William Shakespeare, published on Fri 05.08.2009 at 16:22
Cupid laid by his brand, and fell asleep:
A maid of Dian's this advantage found,
And his love-kindling fire did quickly steep
written by William Shakespeare, published on Thu 04.30.2009 at 03:03
Farewell! Thou art too dear for my possessing,
And like enough thou know'st thy estimate,