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SHAKESPERE
Sonnet 52
The big S: The big D:
So am I as the rich whose blesse'd key If you look at your stuff
Can bring him to his sweet up-locke'd treasure, all the time, you get
The which he will not ev'ry hour survey, bored with it. You
For blunting the fine point of seldom pleasure. appreciate it more if you
lock it away and look at
it only occasionally.
Therefore are feasts so solemn and so rare You value holidays
Since, seldom coming, in the long year set because they don't
Like stones of worth they thinly place'd are, happen often.
Or captain jewels in the carcanet.
So is the time that keeps you as my chest, It's a good thing I
don't see you more
often or I wouldn't
"treasure" you as
much.
Or as the wardrobe which the robe doth hide, Just like it's a really
To make some special instant special blest striking effect to,
By new unfolding his imprisoned pride. say, yank open your
trenchcoat to
reveal the leather
lingerie underneath.
But if you wore it all
the time, people would
just get used to it.
Blessed are you whose worthiness gives scope, You're so great, it's
Being had, to triumph; being lacked, to hope. great when we're
together, and when
we're not, it's great
looking forward to it.
So, the gist seems to be: "Sorry I can't see you tonight babe, but
don't worry we'll get in some quality time later."
- - - - - - - -
After my first attempts at reading the sonnets,
I thought they played a lot like songs on FM radio. My
first impression was always confusion, then after a
little work I'd get an appreciation for the way some of
the phrases ring, but then comes the serious
disappointment when I realized the whole thing was just
an absurdly hyperbolic hymn in praise of some woman.
Couldn't this guy find something better to do that write
elaborate pick up lines?
But yeah, actually he could. I had started reading them
in numerical order, which is presumably close to the
order he wrote them in. The later sonnets have a much
more complex, cynical attitude, like "My mistress' eyes
are nothing like the sun." Shakespere turns punk.
Two loves I have, of comfort and despair,
Which like two spirits do suggest me still.
The better angel is a man right fair,
The worser spirit a woman coloured ill.
To win me soon to hell my female evil
Tempteth my better angel from my side,
And would corrupt my saint to be a devil,
Wooing his purity with her foul pride;
And whether that my angel be turned fiend
Suspect I may, yet not directly tell;
But being both from me, both to each friend,
I guess one angel in another's hell.
Yet this shall I ne'er know, but live in doubt
Till my bad angel fire my good one out.
- - - - - - - - -
Understanding the Sonnets:
Essentially they're letters.
Understanding them requires
imagining a context for them...
who were they sent to, what
was going on then, etc.
Some people pointed out to me a popular
theory that Shakespere was bisexual...
and some of the pronouns in some of the
sonnets suddenly make a lot more sense.. .
- - - - - - - -
Okay, so the consensus here seems to be that the big S was bi.
That's okay by me, I can dig it. Really the sonnets are love
notes to Lord Pembroke or Frances Bacon or someone.
Certainly it's a pretty tidy interpretation of "Two loves
have I of comfort and despair": He's in a weird mood because
his two lovers are sleeping with each other.
Me, I always liked the notion that his friend is sleeping with
his lover, and instead of being jealous he's just worried about
what she's going to do to him.
- - - - - - - -
I was reading some Ben Johnson ("Volpone or The Fox"),
a playwrite from the early 1600s, and imagine my
surprise when I found in the ever-so-scholarly
footnotes a definition of "will" as "sexual appetite".
Throws a whole new light on Sonnet number 135, doesn't
it? "Whoever hath her wish, thou hast thy Will,/
And Will to boot, and Will in overplus." Pretty
blatant, huh?
And what must it have been like for Shakespere when
he was growing up? Who the hell would name a kid
"Will", anyway?
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