WILLIAM
SHAKE-
SPEARE.

1564-1616.

A REMEDY FOR SADNESS.

WHEN to the sessions of sweet silent thought

I summon up remembrance of things past,

I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste :
Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow,

For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,
And weep afresh love's long since cancelled woe,
And moan the expense of many a vanished sight :
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,

And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er

The sad account of fore-bemoanèd moan,

Which I new pay as if not paid before.

But if the while I think on thee, dear Friend,

All losses are restored, and sorrows end.

WILLIAM
SHAKE-

SPEARE.

1564-1616.

A LOVER'S REQUEST.

If thou survive my well-contented day,

When that churl Death my bones with dust shall cover,

And shalt by fortune once more re-survey

These poor rude lines of thy deceased lover,

Compare them with the bettering of the time;
And though they be outstripped by every pen,
Reserve them for my love, not for their rhyme,
Exceeded by the height of happier men.

O, then vouchsafe me but this loving thought :

"Had my friend's Muse grown with this growing age,

A dearer birth than this his love had brought,

To march in ranks of better equipage :

But since he died, and poets better prove,

Theirs for their style I'll read, his for his love."

WILLIAM
SHAKE-
SPEARE.

1564-1616.

SUNSHINE AND CLOUD.

FULL many a glorious morning have I seen

Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye,

Kissing with golden face the meadows green,
Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy;
Anon permit the basest clouds to ride
With ugly rack on his celestial face,

And from the forlorn world his visage hide,

Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace :
Even so my sun one early morn did shine,
With all-triumphant splendour on my brow;
But out, alack! he was but one hour mine,
The region cloud hath masked him from me now.
Yet him for this my love no whit disdaineth;

Suns of the world may stain when heaven's sun

staineth.

WILLIAM
SHAKE-

SPEARE.

1564-1616.

THE TENTH MUSE.

How can my Muse want subject to invent,

While thou dost breathe, that pour'st into my verse

Thine own sweet argument, too excellent

For every vulgar paper to rehearse ?

O, give thyself the thanks, if aught in me
Worthy perusal stand against thy sight;

For who's so dumb that cannot write to thee,
When thou thyself dost give invention light?
Be thou the tenth Muse, ten times more in worth
Than those old nine, which rhymers invocate ;
And he that calls on thee, let him bring forth
Eternal numbers to outlive long date.

If my slight Muse do please these curious days,
The pain be mine, but thine shall be the praise.

WILLIAM
SHAKE-

SPEARE.

1564-1616.

THE VITALITY OF TRUTH.

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 odour which doth in it live.

The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye
As the perfumed tincture of the roses,

Hang on such thorns, and play as wantonly

And so of you, beauteous and lovely youth,

When that shall fade, my verse distils your truth.

D