Shakespeare on Love.

Shakespeare on Love.

Shakespeare is the greatest writer on love-of all time. He is wise and witty, he has a ridiculous sense of fun, yet he captures such depth of feeling. His words are timeless. whether you are head over heels in love or your heart is breaking, he captures the feeling.

This is a tribute to a man who changed the history of literature. Who gave a new dimension to love, tragedy and humour. Hope all you enjoy reading this document and relive those emotions which were once portrayed by Shakespeare through his sonnets, plays and poems.

By-

Prarthana. R. Nargundkar

(_Chaoticsoul)

…When Love speaks, the voice of all the gods make heaven drowsy with the harmony.

“ Love’s labour’s Lost”.

It Will Set the Heart On fire.

Madam, you have bereft me all words. Only my blood speaks to you in my veins.

“The merchant of Venice”

Affection is a coal that must be cooled,

Else, suffered, it will set the heart on fire.

The sea hath bounds, but deep desire hath none.

“Venus and Adonis”

Eternity was in our lips, and eyes,

Bliss in our brows’ bent.

“Antony and Cleopatra”

Your brother and my sister no sooner met but

They looked; no sooner they looked but they loved; no

Sooner loved but they sighed; no sooner sighed

But they asked one another the reason;

And sooner they knew the reason but they sought the remedy.

“As you like it”

“Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?”

“AS you like it”

A lovers eyes will gaze an eagle blind.

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 though 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.

“Lover’s Labour’s Lost”

Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,

And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.

“A Midsummer Night’s Dream”

See Where She Comes Apparelled Like The Spring.

See where she comes, appareled

like the spring

Graces her Subjects, and her thoughts

the king

Of ev’ry virtue gives renown to men;

Her face the book of praises,

Where is read

Nothing but curious pleasures,

As from thence

Sorrow were ever razed and

Testy wrath

Could never be her mild companion.

“Pericles”

Valentine: Why, how know you that I am in love?

Speed: Marry, by these special marks: first, you have learned….

To wreathe your arms, like a malcontent;

To relish a love song, like a robin redbreast; to walk

Alone, like one that had the pestilence; to sigh

Like a schoolboy that had lost his ABC ; to weep,

Like a young wench that had buried her grandma;

To fast, like one that takes diet; to watch,

Like one that fears robbing; to speak puling,

Like a beggar at Hallowmas…

And now you are metamorphosed with a mistress,

The when I look on you I can hardly think you

My master.

“The two Gentlemen of Verona”

Sovereign Of Sighs And Groans

This wimpled, whining, purblind, wayward boy,

This Signor Junior, giant dwarf, Dan cupid,

Regent of love-rhymes, lord of folded arms,

Th’anointed sovereign of sighs and groans,

Liege of all loiterers and malcontents,

Dread prince of plackets, king of codpieces,

Sole imperator and great general

Of trotting paritors- O my little heart!

And I to be a corporal of his field,

And wear his colors like a tumbler’s hoop!

“Love’s Labour’s Lost”

How to know a man in Love

Rosalind: My Uncle taught me how to love a man in love,

In which cage of rushes I am

Sure you are not prisoner.

Orlando: What were his marks?

Rosalind: A lean cheek, which you have not; a blue eye

And sunken, which you have not; an unquestionable

Spirit, which you have not; a beard neglected, which

You have not…then your hose should be ungartered,

Your bonnet unbanded, your sleeve unbuttoned, your

She untied, and everything about you demonstrating a

Careless desolation.

“As you Like It”

Love That Comes Too Late

…love that comes too late,

Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried,

To the grace-sender turns a sour offence,

Crying, “That’s good that’s gone.”

“All’s Well That Ends Well”

This Love Will Undo Us all.

By heaven, I do love, and it hath taught me to rhyme

And to be melancholy.

“Love’s Labour’s Lost”

O learn to read what silent love hath writ!

To hear with eyes belongs to love’s fine wit.

From Sonnet 23.

Never durst poet touch a pen to write

Until his ink were tempered with love’s sighs.

O, then his lines would ravish savage ears,

And plant in tyrants mild humility.

“Love’s Labour’s Lost”

Love comforteth, like sunshine after rain,

But lust’s effect is tempest after sun.

Love’s gentle spring doth always fresh remain;

Lust’s winter comes ere summer half be done.

“Venus and Adonis”

The poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree,

Sing all a green willow.

Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee,

Sing willow, willow, willow.

The fresh streams ran by her and murmured her moans,

Sing willow, willow, willow.

Her salt tears fell from her, and so softened the stones,

Sing willow, willow, willow.

Sing all, a green willow must be my garland.

“Othello”

When in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes,

I all alone beweep my outcast state,

And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,

And look upon myself, and curse my fate,

Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,

Featur’d like him, like him with friends possess’d,

Desiring this man’s art and that man’s scope,

With what I most enjoy contented least;

Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,

Happily I think on thee, and then my state,

Like to the lark at the break of day arising

From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven’s gate;

For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings

That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

Sonnet 29

My imagination

Carries no favour in’t but Bertram’s.

I am undone. There is no living, none.

If Bertram be away…

‘Twas pretty, though a plague.

To see him every hour, to sit and draw

His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls,

In our heart’s table-heart too capable

Of every line and trick of his sweet favour.

But now he’s gone, and my idolatrous fancy

Must sanctify his relics.

“All’s well that ends well”

From You I have been Absent In The Spring

From you I have been absent in the spring,

When proud-pied April, dressed in all his trim,

hath put a spirit of youth in every thing,

That heavy Saturn laughed and leap’d with him.

Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell

Of different flowers in odour and in hue,

Could make me any summer’s story tell,

Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew;

Nor did I wonder at the lily’s white,

Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose:

They were but sweet, but figures of delight,

Drawn after you, you pattern of all those.

Yet seem’d it winter still, and you away,

As with your shadow I with these did play.

Sonnet 98

Still With Thee

So, either by thy picture or my love,

Thyself away thou art present still with me;

For thou not farther than my thoughts canst move,

And I am still with them, and they with thee…

From Sonnet 47

Romeo And Juliet

Expectation Whirls Me Round.

So tedious is this day

As is the night before some festival

To an impatient child that hath new robes

And may not wear them.

The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars

As daylight doth a lamp; her eye in heaven

Would through the airy region stream so bright

That birds would sing and think it were not night.

How silver-sweet sound lovers’ tongues by night,

Like softest music to attending ears!

O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!

It seems she hangs upon the check of night

As a rich jewel in an Ethiope’s ear-

Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!

My bounty is as boundless as the Sea,

My love as deep, the more I give to Thee

The more I have, for both are infinite.

Love is a smoke made with the fume of sights,

Being purged, a fire sparkling in Lover’s eyes,

Being vexed, a sea nourished with Lover’ tears.

What is it else? A madness most discreet,

A chocking gall and a preserving sweet.

My Lips To Blushing Pilgrims

Romeo: If I profane with my unworthiest hand

This holy shrine, the gentler sin is this:

My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand

To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.

Juliet: Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,

For saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch,

And palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.

Romeo: have not saints lips, and holy palmers, too?

Juliet: Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.

Romeo: O then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do:

They pray; grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.

Juliet: saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake.

Romeo: Then move not while my prayer’s effects I take

(he kisses her)

Thus from lips, by thine my sin is purged.

Juliet: Then have my lips the sin that they have took.

Romeo:Sin from my lips? O trespass sweetly urged!

Give me my sin again.

(he kisses her)

Juliet: You kiss by th’book..

Take him

And cut him out in little stars,

And he will make the face

Of heaven so fine

That all the world

Will be in love with night

And pay no worship

To the garish sun.

Yon Light Is Not Day Light;

I Know It.

Juliet: Wilt thou be gone? It is not yet near day.

It was the nightingale, and not the lark,

That pierced the fear-full hollow of thine ear.

Nightly she sings on yon pom’s grantee tree.

Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.

Romeo: It was the lark, the herald of the morn,

NO nightingale. Look, love, what envious streaks

Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east.

Night’s candles are burnt out, and jocund day

Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops.

I must be gone and live, or stay and die.

Juliet: yon light is not daylight; I know it, I.

it is some meteor that the sun exhaled

To be to thee this night a torchbearer

And light thee on thy way to Mantua.

Therefore stay yet. Thou need’st not to be gone.

Romeo: Let me be ta’en, let me be put to death.

I am cotent, so thou wilt have it so.

I’ll say yon grey is not the morning’s eye.

‘Tis but the the pale reflex of Cynthia’s brow;

Not that is not the lark whose notes to beat

The vaulty heaven so high above our heads.

I have more care to stay than will to go.

I would like to thank all my readers who’ve been patient and gone through this tribute.

Thank you