Рефераты. Сонеты Шекспира

|And you in Grecian tires are painted new: |

|Speak of the spring and foison of the year; |

|The one doth shadow of your beauty show, |

|The other as your bounty doth appear; |

|And you in every blessed shape we know. |

| In all external grace you have some part, |

| But you like none, none you, for constant heart. |

| |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 54

|LIV. |

|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 |

|When summer's breath their masked buds discloses:|

| |

|But, for their virtue only is their show, |

|They live unwoo'd and unrespected fade, |

|Die to themselves. Sweet roses do not so; |

|Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odours made: |

| And so of you, beauteous and lovely youth, |

| When that shall fade, my verse distills your |

|truth. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 55

|LV. |

|Not marble, nor the gilded monuments |

|Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme; |

|But you shall shine more bright in these contents|

| |

|Than unswept stone besmear'd with sluttish time. |

|When wasteful war shall statues overturn, |

|And broils root out the work of masonry, |

|Nor Mars his sword nor war's quick fire shall |

|burn |

|The living record of your memory. |

|'Gainst death and all-oblivious enmity |

|Shall you pace forth; your praise shall still |

|find room |

|Even in the eyes of all posterity |

|That wear this world out to the ending doom. |

| So, till the judgment that yourself arise, |

| You live in this, and dwell in lover's eyes. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 56

|LVI. |

|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 |

|Thy hungry eyes even till they wink with |

|fullness, |

|To-morrow see again, and do not kill |

|The spirit of love with a perpetual dullness. |

|Let this sad interim like the ocean be |

|Which parts the shore, where two contracted new |

|Come daily to the banks, that, when they see |

|Return of love, more blest may be the view; |

| Else call it winter, which being full of care |

| Makes summer's welcome thrice more wish'd, more|

|rare. |

|Sonnets of William Shakespeare |

|Sonnet 57 |

|LVII. |

|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 |

|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, |

|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 any thing, he thinks no ill. |

| |

|Sonnets of William Shakespeare |

|Sonnet 58 |


|That god forbid that made me first your slave, |

|I should in thought control your times of pleasure, |

|Or at your hand the account of hours to crave, |

|Being your vassal, bound to stay your leisure! |

|O, let me suffer, being at your beck, |

|The imprison'd absence of your liberty; |

|And patience, tame to sufferance, bide each cheque, |

|Without accusing you of injury. |

|Be where you list, your charter is so strong |

|That you yourself may privilege your time |

|To what you will; to you it doth belong |

|Yourself to pardon of self-doing crime. |

| I am to wait, though waiting so be hell; |

| Not blame your pleasure, be it ill or well. |

| |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 59

|LIX. |

|If there be nothing new, but that which is |

|Hath been before, how are our brains beguiled, |

|Which, labouring for invention, bear amiss |

|The second burden of a former child! |

|O, that record could with a backward look, |

|Even of five hundred courses of the sun, |

|Show me your image in some antique book, |

|Since mind at first in character was done! |

|That I might see what the old world could say |

|To this composed wonder of your frame; |

|Whether we are mended, or whether better they, |

|Or whether revolution be the same. |

| O, sure I am, the wits of former days |

| To subjects worse have given admiring praise. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 60

|LX. |

|Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore,|

| |

|So do our minutes hasten to their end; |

|Each changing place with that which goes before, |

|In sequent toil all forwards do contend. |

|Nativity, once in the main of light, |

|Crawls to maturity, wherewith being crown'd, |

|Crooked elipses 'gainst his glory fight, |

|And Time that gave doth now his gift confound. |

|Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth |

|And delves the parallels in beauty's brow, |

|Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth, |

|And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow: |

| And yet to times in hope my verse shall stand, |

| Praising thy worth, despite his cruel hand. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 61

|LXI. |

|Is it thy will thy image should keep open |

|My heavy eyelids to the weary night? |

|Dost thou desire my slumbers should be broken, |

|While shadows like to thee do mock my sight? |

|Is it thy spirit that thou send'st from thee |

|So far from home into my deeds to pry, |

|To find out shames and idle hours in me, |

|The scope and tenor of thy jealousy? |

|O, no! thy love, though much, is not so great: |

|It is my love that keeps mine eye awake; |

|Mine own true love that doth my rest defeat, |

|To play the watchman ever for thy sake: |

| For thee watch I whilst thou dost wake |

|elsewhere, |

| From me far off, with others all too near. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 62

|LXII. |

|Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eye |

|And all my soul and all my every part; |

|And for this sin there is no remedy, |

|It is so grounded inward in my heart. |

|Methinks no face so gracious is as mine, |

|No shape so true, no truth of such account; |

|And for myself mine own worth do define, |

|As I all other in all worths surmount. |

|But when my glass shows me myself indeed, |

|Beated and chopp'd with tann'd antiquity, |

|Mine own self-love quite contrary I read; |

|Self so self-loving were iniquity. |

| 'Tis thee, myself, that for myself I praise, |

| Painting my age with beauty of thy days. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 63


|Against my love shall be, as I am now, |

|With Time's injurious hand crush'd and o'er-worn;|

| |

|When hours have drain'd his blood and fill'd his |

|brow |

|With lines and wrinkles; when his youthful morn |

|Hath travell'd on to age's steepy night, |

|And all those beauties whereof now he's king |

|Are vanishing or vanish'd out of sight, |

|Stealing away the treasure of his spring; |

|For such a time do I now fortify |

|Against confounding age's cruel knife, |

|That he shall never cut from memory |

|My sweet love's beauty, though my lover's life: |

| His beauty shall in these black lines be seen, |

| And they shall live, and he in them still |

|green. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 64

|LXIV. |

|When I have seen by Time's fell hand defaced |

|The rich proud cost of outworn buried age; |

|When sometime lofty towers I see down-razed |

|And brass eternal slave to mortal rage; |

|When I have seen the hungry ocean gain |

|Advantage on the kingdom of the shore, |

|And the firm soil win of the watery main, |

|Increasing store with loss and loss with store; |

|When I have seen such interchange of state, |

|Or state itself confounded to decay; |

|Ruin hath taught me thus to ruminate, |

|That Time will come and take my love away. |

| This thought is as a death, which cannot choose|

| |

| But weep to have that which it fears to lose. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 65

|LXV. |

|Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless |

|sea, |

|But sad mortality o'er-sways their power, |

|How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea, |

|Whose action is no stronger than a flower? |

|O, how shall summer's honey breath hold out |

|Against the wreckful siege of battering days, |

|When rocks impregnable are not so stout, |

|Nor gates of steel so strong, but Time decays? |

|O fearful meditation! where, alack, |

|Shall Time's best jewel from Time's chest lie |

|hid? |

|Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back?|

| |

|Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid? |

| O, none, unless this miracle have might, |

| That in black ink my love may still shine |

|bright. |

|Sonnets of William Shakespeare |

|Sonnet 66 |

|LXVI. |

|Tired with all these, for restful death I cry, |

|As, to behold desert a beggar born, |

|And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity, |

|And purest faith unhappily forsworn, |

|And guilded honour shamefully misplaced, |

|And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted, |

|And right perfection wrongfully disgraced, |

|And strength by limping sway disabled, |

|And art made tongue-tied by authority, |

|And folly doctor-like controlling skill, |

|And simple truth miscall'd simplicity, |

|And captive good attending captain ill: |

| Tired with all these, from these would I be gone, |

| Save that, to die, I leave my love alone. |

| |

|Sonnets of William Shakespeare |

|Sonnet 67 |


|Ah! wherefore with infection should he live, |

|And with his presence grace impiety, |

|That sin by him advantage should achieve |

|And lace itself with his society? |

|Why should false painting imitate his cheek |

|And steal dead seeing of his living hue? |

|Why should poor beauty indirectly seek |

|Roses of shadow, since his rose is true? |

|Why should he live, now Nature bankrupt is, |

|Beggar'd of blood to blush through lively veins? |

|For she hath no exchequer now but his, |

|And, proud of many, lives upon his gains. |

| O, him she stores, to show what wealth she had |

| In days long since, before these last so bad. |

| |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 68


|Thus is his cheek the map of days outworn, |

|When beauty lived and died as flowers do now, |

|Before the bastard signs of fair were born, |

|Or durst inhabit on a living brow; |

|Before the golden tresses of the dead, |

|The right of sepulchres, were shorn away, |

|To live a second life on second head; |

|Ere beauty's dead fleece made another gay: |

|In him those holy antique hours are seen, |

|Without all ornament, itself and true, |

|Making no summer of another's green, |

|Robbing no old to dress his beauty new; |

| And him as for a map doth Nature store, |

| To show false Art what beauty was of yore. |

Sonnets of William Shakespeare

Sonnet 69

|LXIX. |

|Those parts of thee that the world's eye doth |

|view |

|Want nothing that the thought of hearts can mend;|

| |

|All tongues, the voice of souls, give thee that |

|due, |

|Uttering bare truth, even so as foes commend. |

|Thy outward thus with outward praise is crown'd; |

|But those same tongues that give thee so thine |

|own |

|In other accents do this praise confound |

|By seeing farther than the eye hath shown. |

|They look into the beauty of thy mind, |

|And that, in guess, they measure by thy deeds; |

|Then, churls, their thoughts, although their eyes|

|were kind, |

|To thy fair flower add the rank smell of weeds: |

| But why thy odour matcheth not thy show, |

| The solve is this, that thou dost common grow. |

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