He encontrado mi epitafio

"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 gone."

Y es que, aunque me quejo mucho porque se inventaba palabras y está en todas mis clases de literatura inglesa, en el fondo Shakespeare era genial. Y el soneto XVIII, aunque es un poco más empalagoso, también es precioso:

"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day..."