All of Shakespeare’s plays. More…

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  • Now my charms are all o'erthrown,
    And what strength I have's mine own,
    Which is most faint: now, 'tis true,
    I must be here confined by you,
    Or sent to Naples. Let me not,
    Since I have my dukedom got
    And pardon'd the deceiver, dwell
    In this bare island by your spell;
    But release me from my bands
    With the help of your good hands:
    Gentle breath of yours my sails
    Must fill, or else my project fails,
    Which was to please. Now I want
    Spirits to enforce, art to enchant,
    And my ending is despair,
    Unless I be relieved by prayer,
    Which pierces so that it assaults
    Mercy itself and frees all faults.
    As you from crimes would pardon'd be,
    Let your indulgence set me free.