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unknown authors, so far the most likely picture

William Shakespeare, painted in oil for six years before his death.

Family House Cobbe, Dublin, 1610

Dedicated to the only inspiring, Mr. WH

All happiness and that eternity promised you want our EVER-LIVING-POET (Poet perpetual), who with good adventure desires to give them light.

Sonnet 116

At the junction of loyal spirits

do not let it put impediments.
not love to discover changes that change,

or who makes the distance is distance.

Love is identical to the light fixed,

you see the storms and not immutable.
The star that guides the ship to drift,

value is ignored, even knowing height.

toy
Time is not even playing

rosy lips and cheeks the sickle of Time.

not alter with fleeting hours or weeks, but

endures and endures until the last pit.

error
If what I speak and that can be shown

then say I've never written anything, nor

that man has ever loved.

Sonnet 81

to live
O your own epitaph,

or you'll survive to my rotten bones,

death but can not boot your memory,

but all I do not remember ever.

From here, your name will be immortal life,

and I, when I leave, I will die for the world,

on earth give me a mass grave

over you, you will have the grave in the eye of man.

Cause you are my sweet memorial verses,

eyes have not yet born, one day read and languages \u200b\u200b

future comment from you,

when breathe today, are now all dead.

But you will live, by virtue of my pen,

on the lip of man, the birth of his breath.

Sonnet 76 Why is my verse is no new ornaments,

away of variations and new changes?

Why with the time that it did not address my view

to strange mixtures and new methods?

Why write routines on the same subject,

and wrap my intention in notorious clothes,

such that every word almost tells my name ;

revealing their source and origin?

Oh! Sweet love, you know, you just write,

because you and love you are always my argument,

my merit is to know dressing old words,

spending again what has already been used.

As the sun each day is new and old,

so is my love, repitiedo always said that once already.

Shakespeare's Sonnets, 1599