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Sonnet 116
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:
Oh, no! It is an ever-fixed mark.
That looks on tempests and is
never shaken;
it is the star to every wandering
bark,
whose worth's unknown, although
his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though
rosy lips and cheeks
within 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.
If this be error and upon me
proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever
loved. |
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Sonnet 18
Shall I compare thee to a summer's
day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this and this gives life to thee. |
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Love's Labours Lost, 4.3.327-55
But love, first learned in a
lady's eyes,
Lives not alone immured in the brain;
But, with the motion of all elements,
Courses as swift as thought in every power,
And gives to every power a double power,
Above their functions and their offices.
It adds a precious seeing to the
eye;
A lover's eyes will gaze an eagle blind;
A lover's ear will hear the lowest sound,
When the suspicious head of theft is stopp'd:
Love's feeling is more soft and sensible
Than are the tender horns of cockl'd snails;
Love's tongue proves dainty Bacchus gross in taste:
For valour, is not Love a Hercules,
Still climbing trees in the Hesperides?
Subtle as Sphinx; as sweet and musical
As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair:
And when Love speaks, the voice of all the gods
Makes heaven drowsy with the harmony.
Never durst poet touch a pen to
write
Until his ink were temper'd with Love's sighs;
O, then his lines would ravish savage ears
And plant in tyrants mild humility.
From women's eyes this doctrine I
derive:
They sparkle still the right Promethean fire;
They are the books, the arts, the academes,
That show, contain and nourish all the world:
Else none at all in ought proves excellent
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As Your Like It
No sooner met but they looked;
No sooner looked but they loved;
No sooner loved but they sighed;
No sooner signed but they asked one another the reason;
No sooner knew the reason but they sought the remedy;
And in these degrees have they made a pair of stairs to
marriage... |
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Hamlet, Act II, Sc. II
Doubt thou the stars are fire;
Doubt that the sun doth move;
Doubt truth to be a liar;
But never doubt I love. |
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The Merchant of Venice,
3.2.17-9
One half of me is yours, the other
half yours
Mine own, I would say; but if mine, then yours,
And so all yours. |
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