Sonnets

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?Rhetorical Question
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,Metaphor & Hyperbaton
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
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Two loves I have, of comfort and despair,
Which like two spirits do suggest me still.
The better angel is a man right fair,
The worser spirit a woman colored ill.
To win me soon to hell my female evil
Tempteth my better angel from my side,
And would corrupt my saint to be a devil,
Wooing his purity with her foul pride.
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Luciana
And may it be that you have quite forgot
 A husband’s office? Shall, Antipholus,
Even in the spring of love thy love-springs rot?
 Shall love, in building, grow so ruinous?

Bear a fair presence, though your heart be tainted.
 Teach sin the carriage of a holy saint.
Be secret-false. What need she be acquainted?
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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;
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Now old desire doth in his deathbed lie,
And young affection gapes to be his heir;
That fair for which love groan’d for and would die,
With tender Juliet match’d, is now not fair.
Now Romeo is beloved and loves again,
Alike bewitchèd by the charm of looks,
But to his foe supposed he must complain,
And she steal love’s sweet bait from fearful hooks.
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Romeo
If I profane with my unworthiest hand
This holy shrineMetaphor, the gentle sinOxymoron is this,
My lips, two blushing pilgrimsMetaphor, ready stand
To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.

My lips, two blushing pilgrimsMetaphor,
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A glooming peace this morning with it brings,Metaphor & Hyperbaton
The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head.Personification and Alliteration
Go hence to have more talk of these sad things;
Some shall be pardon’d, and some punishèd:Alliteration & Ellipsis
For never was a story of more woeEllipsis
Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.
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