Happy Shakespeare's Birthday
Posted: April 23rd, 2009, 11:30 pm
I didn't really celebrate this year, but there's still 45 minutes left.
As fly to wanton boys are we to the gods.
They kill us for their sport.
If ever thought shalt love
In the sweet pangs of it, remember me
For such as I am, all true lovers are
Unstaid and steady in all motions else
Save in the constant image of the one that is beloved
(That 5th line there might be wrong, I'll look it up later.)
And this same progeny of evils
Comes from our debate, from our decension
We are their parents and original.
Come, let us sit on the ground
And tell sad stories of the deaths of kings
The robbed that smiles
Steals something from the thief.
When shall we three meet again?
When the hurly-burly's done
When the battle's lost and won
And that will be ere the set of the sun.
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
The quality of mercy is not strained
It falleth as a gentile rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath.
For what is a name?
That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo called
Retain that dear perfection
Which he o'es without a title
I could live in a nutshell
And call myself the king of infinite space
Except that I have bad dreams.
We have heard the chimes at midnight!
As fly to wanton boys are we to the gods.
They kill us for their sport.
If ever thought shalt love
In the sweet pangs of it, remember me
For such as I am, all true lovers are
Unstaid and steady in all motions else
Save in the constant image of the one that is beloved
(That 5th line there might be wrong, I'll look it up later.)
And this same progeny of evils
Comes from our debate, from our decension
We are their parents and original.
Come, let us sit on the ground
And tell sad stories of the deaths of kings
The robbed that smiles
Steals something from the thief.
When shall we three meet again?
When the hurly-burly's done
When the battle's lost and won
And that will be ere the set of the sun.
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
The quality of mercy is not strained
It falleth as a gentile rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath.
For what is a name?
That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo called
Retain that dear perfection
Which he o'es without a title
I could live in a nutshell
And call myself the king of infinite space
Except that I have bad dreams.
We have heard the chimes at midnight!