Happy Birthday Bill!

Today is the birthday/deathday of William Shakespeare, the bane of English lit students. I'm sure most people have been forced to study him at some point. I used to be suspicious of people who actually claimed to like his work, as I thought they were just being pretentious, but I have to confess I have developed an appreciation for old Shaky.

 My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;

Coral is far more red, than her lips red:

If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;

If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.

I have seen roses damasked, red and white,

But no such roses see I in her cheeks;

And in some perfumes is there more delight

Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.

I love to hear her speak, yet well I know

That music hath a far more pleasing sound:

I grant I never saw a goddess go,

My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:

And yet by heaven, I think my love as rare,

As any she belied with false compare.