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 sometimes declines,
By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimm'd.
But they eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor loose 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 breath, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
She shall be buried by her Antony:
No grave upon the earth shall clip in it
A pair so famous. High events as these
Strike those that make them; and their story is
No less in pity than his glory, which
Brought them to be lamented. Our army shall,
In solemn show, attend this funeral;
And then to Rome.
If i profane with my unworthiest hand
This holy shrine, the gentle sin in this,__
My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand
To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.
Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too
much,
Which mannerly devotion shows in this;
For saints have hands that pilgrims' hand do touch,
And palm to palm is holy palmer's kiss.
Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?
Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in
prayer
O then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do;
They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair
Saints do not move, though grant for
prayers' sake.
Then move not, while my prayers' effect
I take.
Thus from my lips, by thine my sin is purg'd.
Then have my lips the sin that they have took.
Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urg'd!
Give me my sin again.
A glooming peace this morning with it brings;
The sun for sorrow will not show his head.
Go hence to have more talk of these sad things;
Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished:
For never was a story of more woe
Than this of Juliette and her Romeo.
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