Sonnet 66 by W. Shakespeare

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

Sonnet 66 (Tir'd with all these, for restful death I cry) from Sonnets by William Shakespeare.

Сонет 66 на английском языке. Автор Уильям Шекспир.

Перевод на русский яз.