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Sonnet 66: Tired with all these, for restful death I cry

William Shakespeare 1564 (Stratford-upon-Avon) – 1616 (Stratford-upon-Avon)



Tired with all these, for restful death I cry,
As to behold desert a beggar born,
And needy nothing trimmed in jollity,
And purest faith unhappily forsworn,
And gilded honour shamefully misplaced,
And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted,
And right perfection wrongfully disgraced,
And strength by limping sway disablèd
And art made tongue-tied by authority,
And folly doctor-like controlling skill,
And simple truth miscalled simplicity,
And captive good attending captain ill.
Tired with all these, from these would I be gone,
Save that to die, I leave my love alone.

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Submitted on May 13, 2011

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William Shakespeare

William Shakespeare was an English playwright, poet, and actor, widely regarded as the greatest writer in the English language and the world's greatest dramatist. He is often called England's national poet and the "Bard of Avon". more…

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    "Sonnet 66: Tired with all these, for restful death I cry" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2022. Web. 19 Aug. 2022. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/41518/sonnet-66%3A-tired-with-all-these%2C-for-restful-death-i-cry>.

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