Shakespeare’s Sonnet #71 “No longer mourn for me when I am dead”
No longer mourn for me when I am dead
Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell
Give warning to the world that I am fled
Reading of Sonnet 71
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The images in the YouTube video are from an original 1609 edition of Shake-speares Sonnets held by the British Library. It is one of only thirteen copies in existence. Images courtesy of the Octavo Corporation.
Modernized Spelling and Punctuation
No longer mourn for me when I am dead
Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell
Give warning to the world that I am fled
From this vile world with vilest worms to dwell.
Nay, if you read this line, remember not
The hand that writ it, for I love you so
That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot,
If thinking on me then should make you woe.
O if, I say, you look upon this verse
When I perhaps compounded am with clay,
Do not so much as my poor name rehearse,
But let your love even with my life decay,
Lest the wise world should look into your moan
And mock you with me after I am gone.
Simplified Modern English Translation
Please do not mourn for me when I am dead
any longer than you shall hear the mournful passing bell
give notice to the world that I have died
and have left this vile world to be laid to rest forever.
Nay, if you read this sonnet, please do not remember
the hand that wrote it, for I love you so much
that I would rather be forgotten in your thoughts,
if thinking about me would just make you grieve.
Oh if, I say, you look upon this poem
when my body is mixed with the dust of the earth,
do not even utter my name,
but rather let your love dissipate even as my body has,
lest the curious world should investigate your grief,
and mock you because of your association with me.
Text from Original 1609 Quarto
Transcription courtesy of University of Virginia Library:
Noe longer mourne for me when I am dead,
Then you shall heare the surly sullen bell
Giue warning to the world that I am fled
From this vile world with vildest wormes to dwell:
Nay if you read this line, remember not,
The hand that writ it, for I loue you so,
That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot,
If thinking on me then should make you woe.
O if (I say) you looke vpon this verse,
When I (perhaps) compounded am with clay,
Do not so much as my poore name reherse;
But let your loue euen with my life decay.
Least the wise world should looke into your mone,
And mocke you with me after I am gon.