Shakespeare once asked, "Is this the generation of love? hot blood, hot thoughts, and hot deeds?" The answer is, of course, "hells yes!" We need more hotness in general! Unfortunately, even after our best efforts, Shakespeare the man has never been all that hot . . . until now.
Last month, a portrait was revealed which may or may not be of William Shakespeare. Normally, we'd be like, "so what?," but the thing about this portrait is that New Shakespeare is looking pretty fly. Check it out-- the new (hotter) version is on the left, the older (uglier, balder) version on the right:
Not bad, eh? Naysayers may cite the fact that the portrait on the left could be of Sir Thomas Overbury, but we at Literary Makeovers!!! resoundingly pooh-pooh that idea. We take literary sexiness wherever we can find it. Honestly, whose sonnets would you rather read?
I feel that Sonnet 36 pretty well sums up how ugly Shakespeare feels about his hot doppelganger:
Let me confess that we two must be twain,
Although our undivided loves are one:
So shall those blots that do with me remain
Without thy help by me be borne alone.
In our two loves there is but one respect,
Though in our lives a separable spite,
Which though it alter not love's sole effect,
Yet doth it steal sweet hours from love's delight.
I may not evermore acknowledge thee,
Lest my bewailed guilt should do thee shame,
Nor thou with public kindness honour me,
Unless thou take that honour from thy name:
But do not so; I love thee in such sort
As, thou being mine, mine is thy good report.