classic theatre

A Sonnet (or short poem) from a collection written by William Shakespeare, published in 1609. 

#29

Synopsis:

The poet, dejected by his low status, remembers his friend’s love, and is thereby lifted into joy.

When in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes,

I all alone beweep my outcast state,

And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,

And look upon myself and curse my fate,

Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,

Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,

Desiring this man’s art and that man’s scope,

With what I most enjoy contented least;

Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,

Haply I think on thee, and then my state,

Like to the lark at break of day arising

From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven’s gate;

 For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings

 That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

(Project Gutenberg, Public Domain)

A Sonnet (or short poem) from a collection written by William Shakespeare, published in 1609. 

#28

Synopsis:

Continuing the thought of s. 27, the poet claims that day and night conspire to torment him. Though he has flattered both day and night by comparing them to beautiful qualities of his beloved, day continues to exhaust him and night to distress him.

How can I then return in happy plight

That am debarred the benefit of rest,

When day’s oppression is not eased by night,

But day by night and night by day oppressed;

And each, though enemies to either’s reign,

Do in consent shake hands to torture me,

The one by toil, the other to complain

How far I toil, still farther off from thee?

I tell the day to please him thou art bright

And dost him grace when clouds do blot the heaven;

So flatter I the swart complexioned night,

When sparkling stars twire not, thou ⌜gild’st⌝ the even.

 But day doth daily draw my sorrows longer,

 And night doth nightly make grief’s length seem stronger.

(Project Gutenberg, Public Domain)

A Sonnet (or short poem) from a collection written by William Shakespeare, published in 1609. 

#27

Synopsis:

In this first of two linked sonnets, the poet complains that the night, which should be a time of rest, is instead a time of continuing toil as, in his imagination, he struggles to reach his beloved.

Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed,

The dear repose for limbs with travel tired,

But then begins a journey in my head

To work my mind when body’s work’s expired.

For then my thoughts, from far where I abide,

Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee,

And keep my drooping eyelids open wide,

Looking on darkness which the blind do see;

Save that my soul’s imaginary sight

Presents ⌜thy⌝ shadow to my sightless view,

Which like a jewel hung in ghastly night

Makes black night beauteous and her old face new.

 Lo, thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind,

 For thee and for myself no quiet find.

(Project Gutenberg, Public Domain)

A Sonnet (or short poem) from a collection written by William Shakespeare, published in 1609. 

#26

Synopsis:

The poet, assuming the role of a vassal owing feudal allegiance, offers his poems as a token of duty, apologizing for their lack of literary worth. He begs his liege lord to protect this expression of his duty until fortune allows him to boast openly of his love.

Lord of my love, to whom in vassalage

Thy merit hath my duty strongly knit,

To thee I send this written embassage

To witness duty, not to show my wit;

Duty so great, which wit so poor as mine

May make seem bare, in wanting words to show it,

But that I hope some good conceit of thine

In thy soul’s thought, all naked, will bestow it;

Till whatsoever star that guides my moving

Points on me graciously with fair aspect,

And puts apparel on my tattered loving

To show me worthy of ⌜thy⌝ sweet respect.

 Then may I dare to boast how I do love thee;

 Till then, not show my head where thou mayst prove me.

(Project Gutenberg, Public Domain)

A Sonnet (or short poem) from a collection written by William Shakespeare, published in 1609. 

#25

Synopsis:

The poet contrasts himself with those who seem more fortunate than he. Their titles and honors, he says, though great, are subject to whim and accident, while his greatest blessing, his love, will not change.

Let those who are in favor with their stars

Of public honor and proud titles boast,

Whilst I, whom fortune of such triumph bars,

Unlooked for joy in that I honor most.

Great princes’ favorites their fair leaves spread

But as the marigold at the sun’s eye,

And in themselves their pride lies burièd,

For at a frown they in their glory die.

The painful warrior famousèd for worth,

After a thousand victories once foiled,

Is from the book of honor razèd quite,

And all the rest forgot for which he toiled.

 Then happy I, that love and am beloved

 Where I may not remove nor be removed.

(Project Gutenberg, Public Domain)

A Sonnet (or short poem) from a collection written by William Shakespeare, published in 1609. 

#23

Synopsis:

The poet blames his inability to speak his love on his lack of self-confidence and his too-powerful emotions, and he begs his beloved to find that love expressed in his writings.

As an unperfect actor on the stage

Who with his fear is put beside his part,

Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage,

Whose strength’s abundance weakens his own heart;

So I for fear of trust forget to say

The perfect ceremony of love’s rite,

And in mine own love’s strength seem to decay,

O’ercharged with burden of mine own love’s might.

O, let my books be then the eloquence

And dumb presagers of my speaking breast,

Who plead for love and look for recompense

More than that tongue that more hath more expressed.

 O, learn to read what silent love hath writ.

 To hear with eyes belongs to love’s fine wit.

(Project Gutenberg, Public Domain)

A Sonnet (or short poem) from a collection written by William Shakespeare, published in 1609. 

#22

Synopsis:

This sonnet plays with the poetic idea of love as an exchange of hearts. The poet urges the young man to take care of himself, since his breast carries the poet’s heart; and the poet promises the same care of the young man’s heart, which, the poet reminds him, has been given to the poet “not to give back again.”

My glass shall not persuade me I am old

So long as youth and thou are of one date,

But when in thee Time’s furrows I behold,

Then look I death my days should expiate.

For all that beauty that doth cover thee

Is but the seemly raiment of my heart,

Which in thy breast doth live, as thine in me;

How can I then be elder than thou art?

O, therefore, love, be of thyself so wary

As I not for myself but for thee will,

Bearing thy heart, which I will keep so chary

As tender nurse her babe from faring ill.

 Presume not on thy heart when mine is slain.

 Thou gav’st me thine not to give back again.

(Project Gutenberg, Public Domain)

A Sonnet (or short poem) from a collection written by William Shakespeare, published in 1609. 

#21

Synopsis:

The poet contrasts himself with poets who compare those they love to such rarities as the sun, the stars, or April flowers. His poetry will, he writes, show his beloved as a beautiful mortal instead of using the exaggerated terms of an advertisement.

So is it not with me as with that muse

Stirred by a painted beauty to his verse,

Who heaven itself for ornament doth use

And every fair with his fair doth rehearse,

Making a couplement of proud compare

With sun and moon, with earth and sea’s rich gems,

With April’s firstborn flowers and all things rare

That heaven’s air in this huge rondure hems.

O, let me, true in love, but truly write,

And then believe me, my love is as fair

As any mother’s child, though not so bright

As those gold candles fixed in heaven’s air.

 Let them say more that like of hearsay well;

 I will not praise that purpose not to sell.

(Project Gutenberg, Public Domain)

A Sonnet (or short poem) from a collection written by William Shakespeare, published in 1609. 

#20

Synopsis:

The poet fantasizes that the young man’s beauty is the result of Nature’s changing her mind: she began to create a beautiful woman, fell in love with her own creation, and turned it into a man. The poet, thus deprived of a female sexual partner, concedes that it is women who will receive pleasure and progeny from the young man, but the poet will nevertheless have the young man’s love.

A woman’s face with Nature’s own hand painted

Hast thou, the master mistress of my passion;

A woman’s gentle heart, but not acquainted

With shifting change, as is false women’s fashion;

An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling,

Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth;

A man in hue all hues in his controlling,

Which steals men’s eyes and women’s souls amazeth.

And for a woman wert thou first created,

Till Nature as she wrought thee fell a-doting,

And by addition me of thee defeated

By adding one thing to my purpose nothing.

 But since she pricked thee out for women’s pleasure,

 Mine be thy love, and thy love’s use their treasure.

(Project Gutenberg, Public Domain)