The Passionate Pilgrim
1599
A curious artifact from the dawn of Shakespeare's legend, The Passionate Pilgrim is a 1599 collection of twenty poems attributed to Shakespeare on its title page, but only five are genuinely his. This hasn't diminished its fascination. The authentic works include two sonnets that would later appear in the immortal 1609 sequence, plus three lyrics extracted from Love's Labour's Lost. The rest are attributions that have puzzled scholars for four centuries: poems by Thomas Heywood, anonymous verses, and works by other poets entirely, all gathered under Shakespeare's name by publisher William Jaggard. What emerges is a strange, compelling document that captures Shakespeare already becoming a brand in his lifetime. The collection pulses with the obsessions that would define his sonnets: desire that burns and fades, beauty confronting its own decay, the desperate arithmetic of love gained and lost. Reading these pages offers something peculiar and precious, the sensation of encountering Shakespeare's voice before it was fully polished, in texts that were already part of his mythology.
Editions
X-Ray
“Love comforeth like sunshine after rain,But Lust's effect is tempest after sun.Love's gentle spring doth always fresh remain;Lust's winter comes ere summer half be done.Love surfeits not, Lust like a glutton dies;Love is all truth, Lust full of forged lies.””
— William Shakespeare
“The summer's flower is to the summer sweetThough to itself it only live and die””
— William Shakespeare
“When my love swears that she is made of truth,I do believe her, though I know she lies””
— William Shakespeare
“Amore non è amoreSe muta quando scopre un mutamentoO tende a svanire quando l‘altro s‘allontana.Oh no! Amore è un faro sempre fissoChe sovrasta la tempesta e non vacilla mai;È la stella che guida di ogni barca,Il cui valore è sconosciuto, benché nota la distanza.Amore non è soggetto al Tempo, pur se rosee labbraE gote dovran cadere sotto la sua curva lama;Amore non muta in poche ore o settimane,Ma impavido resiste al giorno estremo del giudizio;Se questo è un errore e mi sarà provato,Io non ho mai scritto, e nessuno ha mai amato.””
— William Shakespeare
“When most I wink, then do mine eyes best see.””
— William Shakespeare
“The living record of your memory. 'Gainst death, and all-oblivious enmity Shall you pace forth; your praise shall still find room Even in the eyes of all posterity That wear this world out to the ending doom.””
— William Shakespeare
“The other two, slight air, and purging fire Are both with thee, wherever I abide; The first my thought, the other my desire,””
— William Shakespeare
“Look what is best, that best I wish in thee: This wish I have; then ten times happy me!””
— William Shakespeare
“Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed, The dear repose for limbs with travel tir'd; But then begins a journey in my head To work my mind, when body's work's expired:””
— William Shakespeare
