The Complete Works of Shakespeare PDF Book by William Shakespeare


Click here to Download The Complete Works of Shakespeare PDF Book by William Shakespeare Language English having PDF Size 10.5 MB and No of Pages 4151.

From fairest creatures we desire increase, That thereby beauty’s rose might never die, But as the riper should by time decease, His tender heir might bear his memory: But thou contracted to thine own bright eyes, Feed’st thy light’s flame with self-substantial fuel, Making a famine where abundance lies, Thyself thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel.

The Complete Works of Shakespeare PDF Book by William Shakespeare

Name of Book The Complete Works of Shakespeare
PDF Size  10.5 MB
No of Pages 4151
Language English
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Thou that art now the world’s fresh ornament, And only herald to the gaudy spring, Within thine own bud buriest thy content, And, tender churl, mak’st waste in niggarding: Pity the world, or else this glutton be, To eat the world’s due, by the grave and thee.

Then let not winter’s ragged hand deface, In thee thy summer ere thou be distilled: Make sweet some vial; treasure thou some place, With beauty’s treasure ere it be self-killed: That use is not forbidden usury, Which happies those that pay the willing loan; That’s for thyself to breed another thee, Or ten times happier be it ten for one.

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Ten times thyself were happier than thou art, If ten of thine ten times refigured thee: Then what could death do if thou shouldst depart, Leaving thee living in posterity? Be not self-willed for thou art much too fair, To be death’s conquest and make worms thine heir.

As fast as thou shalt wane so fast thou grow’st, In one of thine, from that which thou departest, And that fresh blood which youngly thou bestow’st, Thou mayst call thine, when thou from youth convertest, Herein lives wisdom, beauty, and increase, Without this folly, age, and cold decay.

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If all were minded so, the times should cease, And threescore year would make the world away: Let those whom nature hath not made for store, Harsh, featureless, and rude, barrenly perish: Look whom she best endowed, she gave thee more.

Which bounteous gift thou shouldst in bounty cherish: She carved thee for her seal, and meant thereby, Thou shouldst print more, not let that copy die. When I consider everything that grows Holds in perfection but a little moment. That this huge stage presenteth nought but shows Whereon the stars in secret influence comment.

When I perceive that men as plants increase, Cheered and checked even by the self-same sky: Vaunt in their youthful sap, at height decrease, And wear their brave state out of memory. Then the conceit of this inconstant stay, Sets you most rich in youth before my sight. The Complete Works of Shakespeare PDF Book

Where wasteful Time debateth with Decay To change your day of youth to sullied night, And all in war with Time for love of you, As he takes from you, I engraft you new. 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 dimmed, And every fair from fair sometime declines, By chance, or nature’s changing course untrimmed: But thy eternal summer shall not fade, Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st.

Nor shall death brag thou wand’rest in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st, So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee. Mine eye hath played the painter and hath stelled, Thy beauty’s form in table of my heart, My body is the frame wherein ’tis held, And perspective it is best painter’s art. The Complete Works of Shakespeare PDF BookThe Complete Works of Shakespeare PDF Book

For through the painter must you see his skill, To find where your true image pictured lies, Which in my bosom’s shop is hanging still, That hath his windows glazed with thine eyes: Now see what good turns eyes for eyes have done, Mine eyes have drawn thy shape, and thine for me Are windows to my breast.

Where-through the sun Delights to peep, to gaze therein on thee; Yet eyes this cunning want to grace their art, They draw but what they see, know not the heart. Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed, The dear respose for limbs with travel tired, But then begins a journey in my head To work my mind, when body’s work’s expired.

For then my thoughts, from far where I abide, Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee, And keep my drooping eyelids open wide, Looking on darkness which the blind do see. Save that my soul’s imaginary sight Presents thy shadow to my sightless view, Which like a jewel (hung in ghastly night) Makes black night beauteous, and her old face new. The Complete Works of Shakespeare PDF Book

Lo thus by day my limbs, by night my mind, For thee, and for my self, no quiet find. 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 my self and curse my fate, Wishing me like to one more rich in hope.

Featured like him, like him with friends possessed, Desiring this man’s art, and that man’s scope, With what I most enjoy contented least, Yet in these thoughts my self almost despising, Haply I think on thee, and then my state, (Like to the lark at 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. If the dull substance of my flesh were thought, Injurious distance should not stop my way, For then despite of space I would be brought, From limits far remote, where thou dost stay. The Complete Works of Shakespeare PDF Book Download

No matter then although my foot did stand Upon the farthest earth removed from thee, For nimble thought can jump both sea and land, As soon as think the place where he would be. But ah, thought kills me that I am not thought To leap large lengths of miles when thou art gone.

But that so much of earth and water wrought, I must attend, time’s leisure with my moan. Receiving nought by elements so slow, But heavy tears, badges of either’s woe. How careful was I when I took my way, Each trifle under truest bars to thrust.

That to my use it might unused stay From hands of falsehood, in sure wards of trust! But thou, to whom my jewels trifles are, Most worthy comfort, now my greatest grief, Thou best of dearest, and mine only care, Art left the prey of every vulgar thief. The Complete Works of Shakespeare PDF Book Download

Thee have I not locked up in any chest, Save where thou art not, though I feel thou art, Within the gentle closure of my breast, From whence at pleasure thou mayst come and part, And even thence thou wilt be stol’n I fear, For truth proves thievish for a prize so dear.

So am I as the rich whose blessed key, Can bring him to his sweet up-locked treasure, The which he will not every hour survey, For blunting the fine point of seldom pleasure. Therefore are feasts so solemn and so rare, Since seldom coming in that long year set, Like stones of worth they thinly placed are, Or captain jewels in the carcanet.

So is the time that keeps you as my chest Or as the wardrobe which the robe doth hide, To make some special instant special-blest, By new unfolding his imprisoned pride. Blessed are you whose worthiness gives scope, Being had to triumph, being lacked to hope. The Complete Works of Shakespeare PDF Book Download

If there be nothing new, but that which is, Hath been before, how are our brains beguiled, Which labouring for invention bear amis The second burthen 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.

Against my love shall be as I am now With Time’s injurious hand crushed and o’erworn, When hours have drained his blood and filled his brow With lines and wrinkles, when his youthful morn Hath travelled on to age’s steepy night, And all those beauties whereof now he’s king Are vanishing, or vanished out of sight. The Complete Works of Shakespeare PDF Book Free

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.

Thus is his cheek the map of days outworn, When beauty lived and died as flowers do now, Before these 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, it self 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. The Complete Works of Shakespeare PDF Book Free

How hard it is to hide the sparks of nature! These boys know little they are sons to th’ King, Nor Cymbeline dreams that they are alive. They think they are mine; and though train’d up thus meanly I’ th’ cave wherein they bow, their thoughts do hit The roofs of palaces, and nature prompts them In simple and low things to prince it much Beyond the trick of others.

This Polydore, The heir of Cymbeline and Britain, who The King his father call’d Guiderius—Jove! When on my three-foot stool I sit and tell The warlike feats I have done, his spirits fly out Into my story; say ‘Thus mine enemy fell, And thus I set my foot on’s neck’; even then The princely blood flows in his cheek, he sweats.

Strains his young nerves, and puts himself in posture That acts my words. The younger brother, Cadwal, Once Arviragus, in as like a figure Strikes life into my speech, and shows much more His own conceiving. Hark, the game is rous’d! O Cymbeline, heaven and my conscience knows Thou didst unjustly banish me! Whereon. The Complete Works of Shakespeare PDF Book Free

At three and two years old, I stole these babes, Thinking to bar thee of succession as Thou refts me of my lands. Euriphile, Thou wast their nurse; they took thee for their mother, And every day do honour to her grave. Myself, Belarius, that am Morgan call’d, They take for natural father. The game is up.

Meet thee at Milford Haven! I forgot to ask him one thing; I’ll remember’t anon. Even there, thou villain Posthumus, will I kill thee. I would these garments were come. She said upon a time—the bitterness of it I now belch from my heart—that she held the very garment of Posthumus in more respect than my noble and natural person.

Together with the adornment of my qualities. With that suit upon my back will I ravish her; first kill him, and in her eyes. There shall she see my valour, which will then be a torment to her contempt. He on the ground, my speech of insultment ended on his dead body, and when my lust hath dined—which,. The Complete Works of Shakespeare PDF Book Free

As I say, to vex her I will execute in the clothes that she so prais’d—to the court I’ll knock her back, foot her home again. She hath despis’d me rejoicingly, and I’ll be merry in my revenge. I am near to th’ place where they should meet, if Pisanio have mapp’d it truly.

How fit his garments serve me! Why should his mistress, who was made by him that made the tailor, not be fit too? The rather, saving reverence of the word, for ’tis said a woman’s fitness comes by fits. Therein I must play the workman. I dare speak it to myself, for it is not vain-glory for a man and his glass to confer in his own chamber.

I mean, the lines of my body are as well drawn as his; no less young, more strong, not beneath him in fortunes, beyond him in the advantage of the time, above him in birth, alike conversant in general services, and more remarkable in single oppositions. Yet this imperceiverant thing loves him in my despite. The Complete Works of Shakespeare PDF Book Free

What mortality is! Posthumus, thy head, which now is growing upon thy shoulders, shall within this hour be off; thy mistress enforced; thy garments cut to pieces before her face; and all this done, spurn her home to her father, who may, haply, be a little angry for my so rough usage.

But my mother, having power of his testiness, shall turn all into my commendations. My horse is tied up safe. Out, sword, and to a sore purpose! Fortune, put them into my hand. This is the very description of their meeting-place; and the fellow dares not deceive me.

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