Novel & Cerita William Shakespeare Poem Shall I Compare Thee

…… One word is too often profaned For me to profane it, One feeling too falsely distain'd For thee to distain it; One hope is too like despair For prudence to smother, And pity from thee more dear Than that from another. I can not give what men call love: But wilt thou accept not The worship the heart lifts above And the heavens reject not, And the desire of the moth for the star, Of the nigth for the morrow The devotion to something afar From the sphere of our sorrow. (by Shelley)

"So? It doesn't mean he can't want you. If this doesn't work, I guess he's really not that into you." "Stop it, Em. I don't want to play games with Levi." "Live a little, honey. Life is nothing but one big game. I think that's what Shakespeare said." "No, he didn't." Grinning, Natalie corrected her. "He said, 'Out, out, brief candle. Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, And then is heard no more.'" It was one of her favourite monologues from Macbeth, and its meaning wasn't anywhere close to what her friend was trying to convey.

He realized he was revealing far more of himself to this woman than he had intended to. "And who do you read that gives you strength?" she asked. "John Donne. A bit old-fashioned, I know, but there's something about him" Miss Beaumont lingered close to the shelf, her eyes drifting as she recalled a passage by Donne. Let maps to others, worlds on worlds have shown, Let us possess one world, each hath one, and is one. His shock was momentary as he recognized Donne's "The Good-Morrow," and he couldn't help but reply.

And we will all go together. To pick wild mountain thyme all along the purple heather Will ye go, laddie, go? I shall build my love a bower over by yon crystal fountain. And in it I shall pile all the treasures of the mountain. Will ye go, laddie, go? And we will all go together. To pick wild mountain thyme all along the purple heather Will ye go, laddie, go? Well, if my true love will not go, I shall surely find another

She whirls around, having spent several silent seconds studying the architecture, the marbled columns, the stage. She firstly muses… “Where to begin?” She gives a small laugh and more seriously contends, “Actually, I fell in love with the iambic pentameter and the complication of dissecting verses. Then I realized that Shakespeare’s themes transcend time—as in, they’re identifiable even today, and they’re as comedic and dramatic as they are relevant. Add some poking fun at the royals, and the fact that he cleverly disguised that obsession by setting many of his plays in Italy, rather than in England, and it’s all a winning combination.”

, Kevin says. "Oh Romeo, Romeo. Why aren't here, Romeo? Deny the father and reuse the name; or if that will not swear to be love, and I'll no longer be Capulet.", I whisper, then continue, "This is the name of my enemy. This art itself, though not a Montague. What's a Montague? It's neither hand, nor foot, nor arm, nor face, nor any other part belonging to a man. Oh, to be some other name! What's in a name? That which we call a rose, by another name, would smell as sweet. So Romeo would- were he not Romeo called- retain that dear perfection which he owns without that title. Romeo, remove the name, and for that name, which is no part of these, take all myself.", I say with passion.

“Death be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so; For those who thou think’st thou dost overthrow Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me John Donne She smiles to herself as she dresses up for breakfast, remembering the events of the past night.

Before another thought can pass through my mind, his lips are on mine Shakespeare The course of true love never did run smooth .

“Here’s one of his works I know you will like: A Lover’s Complaint.” I snorted. Lady Lucia would not have known I was familiar with that author and playwright, but I remembered that poem. Although it was a good one, I didn’t enjoy it much. It talked about love and how cruel it could be. Shakespeare wrote about the many facets of love beautifully, but when love blinded all the other senses, his poem reminded us it became something dangerous. “As you wish, Milady.” I softened my eyes at her when I answered. If it made the duchess happy, I would let her read it to me.