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.
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Comments1Wow! This poem really is something special. I remember stumbling across it in my younger years, and it genuinely stirred emotions in me. The line "And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted" always stood out to me. Such a raw display of anguish towards the world's flaws. I'm just your average student, but the depth and complexity of this piece never fail to astound me. It brings to light the universal trials of life and really resonates when you're feeling a bit jaded with the state of things. It's definitely one of my favourites.