 Sylvia, by William Shakespeare, read for LibriVox.org by Clarica. Who is Sylvia? What is she, that all our swings commend her? Holy, fair, and wise is she, the heavens such grace did lend her that she might admire it be. Is she kind as she is fair, for beauty lives with kindness? Love doth to her eyes repair, to help him of his blindness, and, being helped, inhabits there. Then to Sylvia let us sing, that Sylvia is excelling. She excels each mortal thing upon the dull earth dwelling. To her let us garlands bring. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. The Blossom, by William Shakespeare, read for LibriVox.org by Clarica. On a day, a lack the day, Love, whose month is ever may, spied a blossom passing fair Playing in the wanton air. Through the velvet leaves, the wind, all unseen, again passage find, that the lover, sick to death, wished himself the heavens breath, air, quote he, thy cheeks may blow, air, would I might triumph so. But a lack my hand is sworn, nearer to pluck thee from thy thorn, vow, a lack, for youth unmeat, youth so apt to pluck a sweet, do not call it sin in me, that I am foresworn for thee. Thou, for whom Ian Jove would swear, Juneau but an aethiop were, and deny himself for Jove, turning mortal for thy love. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. Spring and Winter One, by William Shakespeare, read for LibriVox.org by Clarica. When daisies pied and violets blue, and ladies mocks all silver-white, and cuckoo buds of yellow hue, do paint the meadows with delight, the cuckoo then, on every tree, mocks married men, for thus sings he, cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo, o word of fear, unpleasing to a married ear. When shepherds pipe on oten straws, and merry larks or plowmen's clocks, when turtles tread, and rooks and daas, and maidens bleach their summer smocks, the cuckoo then, on every tree, mocks married men, for thus sings he, cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo, o word of fear, unpleasing to a married ear. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. Spring and Winter Two, by William Shakespeare, read for LibriVox.org by Clarica. When icicles hang by the wall, and Dick the Shepherd blows his nail, and Tom bears logs into the hall, and milk comes frozen home in pale. When blood is nipped and ways be foul, then nightly sings the staring owl, to wit, to who, a merry note, while greasy Joan doth keel the pot. When all allowed the window blow, and coughing drowns the parson's saw, and birds sit brooding in the snow, and Marian's nose looks red and raw, when roasted crabs hiss in the bowl, then nightly sings the staring owl, to wit, to who, a merry note, while greasy Joan doth keel the pot. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. Fairyland One, by William Shakespeare, read for LibriVox.org by Clarica. Over hill, over dale, through brush, through briar, over park, over pale, through flood, through fire. I do wander everywhere, swifter than the moon's sphere, and I serve the fairy queen to do her orbs upon the green. The cow slips tall her pensioners be, in their gold coats spots you see. Those be rubies, fairy favors, in those freckles live their savers. I must go seek some dewdrops here, and hang a pearl in every cow slip's ear. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. Fairyland Two, by William Shakespeare, read for LibriVox.org by Clarica. You spotted snakes with double tongue, thorny hedgehogs be not seen, Nuts and blind worms do no wrong, come not near our fairy queen. Philomel with melody, sing in our sweet lullaby, Lullalullullullullaby, lullalullullullaby. Never harm nor spell nor charm, come our lovely lady nigh, so good night with lullaby. Sing spiders, come not here, hence you long-legged spinners, hence. Beetles black approach not near, worm nor snail do no offence. Philomel with melody, sing in our sweet lullaby, Lullalullullullaby, lullalullullaby. Never harm nor spell nor charm, come our lovely lady nigh, so good night with lullaby. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. Fairyland Three, by William Shakespeare, read for LibriVox.org by Clarica. Come unto these yellow sands and then take hands, curtsied when you have, and kissed, the wild waves wist, foot it feetly here and there, and sweet sprites the birthing bear, hark, hark, bow wow, the watchdogs bark, bow wow, hark, hark, I hear, the strain of strutting shanticleer, cry, cock-a-dittle-dow. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. Fairyland Four, by William Shakespeare, read for LibriVox.org by Clarica. Where the bee sucks, there suck I, in a cow-slip's bell I lie, there I couch when owls do cry, On the bat's back I do fly after summer merrily, Merrily merrily shall I live now, under the blossom that hangs on the bow. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. Fairyland Five, by William Shakespeare, read for LibriVox.org by Clarica. Full fathom five thy father lies, Of his bones are coral-made, those are pearls that were his eyes. Nothing of him that doth fade, But doth suffer a sea-change, into something rich and strange. See nymphs hourly ring his knell, ding-dong, hark, now I hear them, ding-dong, bell. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. Love by William Shakespeare, read for LibriVox.org by Clarica. Tell me, where is fancy bread, or in the heart, or in the head? How begot, how nourish it? Reply, reply. It is engendered in the eyes, with gazing fed, and fancy dyes in the cradle where it lies. Let us all ring fancy's knell. I'll begin it, ding-dong, bell. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. Sweet and Twenty by William Shakespeare, read for LibriVox.org by Clarica. Oh, mistress mine, where are you roaming? Oh, stay in here, your true love's coming, That can sing both high and low. Trip no further, pretty sweet'ing, journey's end in lover's meeting. Every wise man's son doth know. What is love, tis not hereafter. Present mirth hath present laughter. What's to come is still unsure. In delay there lies no plenty. Then come and kiss me, sweet and Twenty. Youths a stuff will not endure. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. Sturge by William Shakespeare, read for LibriVox.org by Clarica. Come away, come away, death, and in sad Cyprus let me be laid. Fly away, fly away, breath. I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white stuck all with you. Oh, prepare it. My part of death no one so true did share it. Not a flower, not a flower sweet, on my black coffin let there be strone. Not a friend, not a friend greet my poor course, where my bones shall be thrown. A thousand thousand sighs to save. Lay me, oh, where sad true lover never find my grave to weep there. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. Under the Greenwood Tree by William Shakespeare, read for LibriVox.org by Clarica. Amiens sings. Under the Greenwood Tree, who loves to lie with me and turn his merry note unto the sweet bird's throat. Come hither, come hither, come hither, here shall he see no enemy but winter and rough weather. Who doth ambition shun and loves to live in the sun? Seeking the food he eats and pleased with what he gets. Come hither, come hither, here shall he see no enemy but winter and rough weather. Jacques replies. If it do come to pass that any man turn ass, leaving his wealth and ease a stubborn will to please. Duc dame, duc dame, duc dame, here shall he see gross fools as he, and if he will come to me. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. Blow, blow, thou winter wind, by William Shakespeare, read for LibriVox.org by Clarica. Blow, blow, thou winter wind, thou art not so unkind as man's ingratitude. Thy tooth is not so keen, because thou art not seen, although thy breath be rude. Hey ho, sing hey ho unto the green holly! Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly, than hey ho the holly, this life is most jolly. Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, that dost not bite so nigh as benefits forgot. Though thou the water's warp, thy sting is not so sharp, as friend remembered not. Hey ho, sing hey ho unto the green holly! Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly, than hey ho the holly, this life is most jolly. End of poem This recording is in the public domain. It was a lover and his lass, by William Shakespeare, read for LibriVox.org by Clarica. It was a lover and his lass, with a hey and a ho, and a hey nonny no, that o'er the green cornfield did pass, in the spring time the only pretty ring time, when birds do sing hey ding a ding ding, sweet lovers love the spring. Between the acres of the rye, with a hey and a ho, and a hey nonny no, these pretty country folks would lie, in the spring time the only pretty ring time, when birds do sing hey ding a ding ding, sweet lovers love the spring. This carol they began that hour, with a hey and a ho, and a hey nonny no, how that life was but a flower, in the spring time the only pretty ring time, when birds do sing hey ding a ding ding, sweet lovers love the spring. And therefore take the present time, with a hey and a ho, and a hey nonny no, for love is crowned with the prime, in the spring time the only pretty ring time, when birds do sing hey ding a ding ding, sweet lovers love the spring. End of poem, this recording is in the public domain. Take or take those lips away, by William Shakespeare, read for LibriVox.org, by Clarica. Take or take those lips away, that so sweetly were foresworn, and those eyes, the break of day, lights that do mislead the morn. But my kisses bring again, bring again, seals of love, but sealed in vain, sealed in vain. End of poem, this recording is in the public domain. O bond, by William Shakespeare, read for LibriVox.org, by Clarica. Hark! Hark! the lark at Heaven's gate sings, and Phoebus skins arise, his steeds to water at those springs on chalice flowers that lies, and winking merry buds begin to ope their golden eyes, with everything that pretty bin. My lady, sweet, arise, arise, arise. End of poem, this recording is in the public domain. Fidel, by William Shakespeare, read for LibriVox.org, by Clarica. Fear no more the heat of the sun, nor the furious winter's rages. Thou thy worldly task hast done, home art gone, and tain thy wages. Golden lads and girls, all must, as chimney-sweepers, come to dust. Fear no more the frown of the great, thou art past the tyrant's stroke. Care no more to clothe and eat. To thee the reed is as the oak. The scepter, learning, psychic, must all follow this, and come to dust. Fear no more the lightning flash, nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone. Fear not slander, censure, rash. Thou hast finished joy and moan. All lovers young, all lovers, must consign to thee, and come to dust. No exercise or harm thee, nor know witchcraft charm thee. Just unlayed forbear thee. Nothing ill come near thee. Quiet consummation have, and renowned be thy grave. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Bridal Song, by William Shakespeare, or John Fletcher. Read for LibriVox.org, by Clarica. Roses, their sharp spines being gone, not royal in their smells alone, but in their hue. Maiden-pinks of odor-faint. Daisy's smell-less, yet most quaint, and sweet-time true. Primrose, first-born child of Vare. Mary Springtime's harbinger, with her bells dim. Oxlips in their cradles growing. Marygolds on deathbeds blowing. Lark's heels trim. All dear nature's children's sweet, lie for bride and bridegroom's feet, blessing their sense. Not an angel of the air, bird melodious or bird-fair, be absentence. The crow, the slanderous cuckoo, nor the boating raven, nor chuff whore, nor chattering pie, may on our bride-house perch or sing, or with them any discord bring, but from it fly. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Derge of the Three Queens by William Shakespeare or John Fletcher. Red for LibriVox.org by Clarica. Earns and odors bring away, vapours size darken the day, our dull, more deadly looks than dying, balms and gums and heavy cheers, sacred vials filled with tears, and clamours through the wild air flying. Come, all sad and solemn shows, that our quick-eyed pleasures foes, we convent not else but woes. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. Orpheus by William Shakespeare or John Fletcher. Red for LibriVox.org by Clarica. Us with his lute made trees, and the mountaintops that freeze, bow themselves when he did sing. To his music plants and flowers ever sprung, as sun and showers there had made a lasting spring. Everything that heard him play, even the billows of the sea, hung their heads and then lay by. In sweet music is such art, killing care and grief of heart, fall asleep or hearing die. End of poem. This recording is in the public domain. The Phoenix and the Turtle by William Shakespeare. Red for LibriVox.org by Clarica. Not the bird of loudest lay on the sole Arabian tree, Harold sad and trumpet be, to whose sound chased wings obey. But thou shrieking harbinger, foul procurer of the fiend, augur of the fever's end, to this troop come thou not near. From this session interdict every foul of tyrant wing, save the eagle feathered king, keep the obsequie so strict. Let the priest in surplus white, that defunctive music can, be the death-divining swan, lest the requiem lack his right. And thou, trebledated crow, that thy sable gender makest, with the breath thou gift and takes'd, amongst our mourners, shalt thou go. Near the Anthem doth commence, love and constancy is dead, Phoenix and the Turtle fled in a mutual flame from hence. So they loved as love in twain had the essence but in one, two distincts, division none, number there in love was slain. Hearts remote yet not asunder, distance and no space was seen, twix the Turtle and his queen, but in them it were a wonder. So between them, love did shine, that the Turtle saw his right, flaming in the Phoenix's sight, either was the other's mine. Property was thus appalled that the self was not the same, single nature's doubled name, neither two nor one was called. Division, in itself confounded, saw division grow together, to themselves yet either neither. Simple were so well compounded, that it cried, how true a twain seemeth this concordant one, love hath reason reason none, if what parts can so remain. Whereupon it made this threne to the Phoenix and the Dove, co-supremes and stars of love as chorus to their tragic scene. Thrinos, beauty, truth and rarity, grace in all simplicity, here enclosed in cinders lie. Death is now the Phoenix's nest and the Turtle's loyal breast to eternity doth rest, leaving no posterity, twas not their infirmity, it was married chastity. Truth may seem but cannot be, beauty brag but tis not she, truth and beauty buried be. To this earn let those repair, that are either true or fair, for these dead birds