101
Oh truant Muse, what shall be thy amends
For thy neglect of truth in beauty dy’d?
Both truth and beauty on my love depends,
So dost thou too, and therein dignifi’d.
Make answer Muse, wilt thou not haply say,
Truth needs no color with his color fix’d.
Beauty no pensel, beauty’s truth to lay,
But best is best, if never intermix’d?
Because he needs no praise, wilt thou be dumb?
Excuse not silence so, for’t lies in thee,
To make him much out-live a gilded tomb
And to be prais’d of ages yet to be.
Then do thy office Muse, I teach thee how,
To make him seem long hence, as he shows now.
The only irregular lines are 6 and 7, both with initial trochee-iambs, emphasizing truth and beauty, respectively. These do little to interrupt the otherwise steady beat of regular iambs running through from beginning to end of this address to the poet’s wayward muse. Are we meant to take this seriously? I’m not sure.
102
My love is strength’ned though more weak in seeming,
I love not less, though less the show appear:
That love is merchandiz’d, whose rich esteeming,
The owner’s tongue doth publish everywhere.
Our love was new, and then but in the spring,
When I was wont to greet it with my lays,
As Philomel in summer’s front doth sing,
And stops his pipe in growth of riper days.
Not that the summer is less pleasant now
Than when her mournful hymns did hush the night,
But that wild music burthens every bough,
And sweets grown common lose their dear delight.
Therefore like her, I some-time hold my tongue
Because I would not dull you with my song.
. The first quatrain of Sonnet 102 sounds very different from the rest of the poem. It flows easily with the easy words, helped along by the feminine endings in lines 1 and 3. After the first quatrain, the lines are more varied. The pauses move around, the words speed up and slow down. Only line 11 is irregular, with its midline spondee: “But THAT WILD MUsic BURthens EV’ry BOUGH.” The sonnet ends with a more mature rhythm than it starts with.
103
Alack what poverty my Muse brings forth,
That having such a scope to show her pride,
The argument all bare is of more worth
Than when it hath my added praise beside.
Oh blame me not if I no more can write!
Look in your glass and there appears a face,
That over-goes my blunt invention quite,
Dulling my lines, and doing me disgrace.
Were it not sinful then, striving to mend,
To mar the subject that before was well,
For to no other pass my verses tend,
Than of your graces and your gifts to tell.
And more, much more than in my verse can sit,
Your own glass shows you, when you look in it.
There are three trochee-iambs in Sonnet 103 that emphasize important phrases; “LOOK in your GLASS” (line 6), “DULling my LINES” (line 8) and “STRIving to MEND” (line 9). But more importantly, the rhythm of Sonnet 103 is driven by the flow of thought, not the lines. Sometimes the pauses at the ends of lines are brief; they are virtually absent at the ends of lines 3, 6, and 11—the thought flows through to the next lines. The rhymes lose importance, they become secondary. This is crucial for the couplet. Normally, we would need a strong emphasis on it to keep the rhyme with can sit (which sounds awful to my ear). But if the rhymes are weak, and the flow of thought dominates, it’s easier to read the sonnet as one long rant with the emphasis in the last line on look (echoing the emphasis on the same word in line 6). W. sounds annoyed to me now. All those allusions to previous sonnets make sense (see discussion in Shakespeare’s Sonnets Among His Private Friends). “How many times do I have to tell you the same thing?”
104
To me fair friend you never can be old,
For as you were when first your eye I eyed,
Such seems your beauty still: Three Winters cold,
Have from the forests shook three summers’ pride,
Three beauteous springs to yellow Autumn turn’d,
In process of the seasons have I seen,
Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burn’d,
Since first I saw you fresh which yet are green.
Ah yet doth beauty like a Dial hand,
Steal from his figure, and no pace perceiv’d,
So your sweet hue, which me thinks still doth stand
Hath motion, and my eye may be deceived.
For fear of which, hear this thou age unbred,
Ere you were born was beauty’s summer dead.
Sonnet 104, like Sonnet 103 is more dependent on the flow of thought than the meter. All the lines are regular except for the midline trochee-iamb of line 11: “WHICH methinks STILL doth STAND” (putting a strong emphasis on still). There is a strong pause in the middle of line 3 with none at the end of the line. Line 5 continues seamlessly to line 6 without a pause and we see the same with every odd line through the quatrains: 7 to 8, 9 to 10, and 11 to 12. This gives more regularity to Sonnet 104 than Sonnet 103, making its rhymes more perceptible. The different patterns of the meter and the sentence structure make the sonnet more intricate when read naturally, without forcing the rhymes or the meter.
105
Let not my love be call’d Idolatry,
Nor my belovéd as an Idol show,
Since all alike my songs and praises be
To one, of one, still such, and ever so.
Kind is my love today, tomorrow kind,
Still constant in a wond’rous excellence,
Therefore my verse to constancy confin’d,
One thing expressing, leaves out difference.
Fair, kind, and true, is all my argument,
Fair, kind and true, varying to other words,
And in this change is my invention spent,
Three themes in one, which wond’rous scope affords.
Fair, kind, and true, have often liv’d alone.
Which three ’til now, never kept seat in one.
The irregular lines in Sonnet 105 leave no doubt about what words are emphasized. “KIND is my LOVE toDAY” starts line 5. And a spondee starts each repetition of “FAIR, KIND and TRUE,” line10 adding a midline trochee-iamb (“VARying to OTHer WORDS”.) [Note: varying is pronounce with two syllables=”var-ying”.] The final emphasis, a midline trochee-iamb, is reserved for the last line: “Which THREE till NOW NEver kept SEAT in ONE.” But the punctuation is as important as the meter, breaking up the lines, introducing pauses, setting the tone.
106
When in the Chronicle of wasted time,
I see descriptions of the fairest wights,
And beauty making beautiful old rhyme,
In praise of Ladies dead, and lovely Knights,
Then in the blazon of sweet beauty’s best,
Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow,
I see their antique Pen would have express’d
Even such a beauty as you master now.
So all their praises are but prophesies
Of this our time, all you prefiguring,
And for they look’d but with divining eyes,
They had not still enough your worth to sing:
For we which now behold these present days,
Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise.
The meter of Sonnet 106 is very unusual. It’s divided into two parts, the first 8 lines (the octet) and the last six lines (the sestet). The octet is highly irregular. It’s not only that only three lines (4, 6 and 7) contain all iambs, but that there are some unusual patterns in some of the irregular lines. Most conspicuous are the first three lines, each of which contains a pyrrhic (line 1 also starts with a trochee-iamb):
WHEN in the CHROnicle of WASted TIME,
i SEE deSCRIPtions of the FAIRest WIGHTS,
And BEAUty MAKing BEAUtiful old RHYME,
Those pyrrhic-iambs give a rhythm we don’t hear often: “te-te-te-DUM.” They make the lines roll, like a drumbeat. The regularity of line 4 draws our attention to those dead ladies and lovely knights. Line 5 starts again with a trochee-iamb and is slowed down near its end by a spondee: “THEN in the BLAzon OF SWEET BEAUty’s BEST.” The octet ends with the same pattern as line 1: “EV’N such a BEAUty as you MASter NOW.” The remainder of the sonnet, the sestet, is completely regular. It highlights the point of the couplet. We, in the present, lack tongues to praise.
107
Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul
Of the wide world, dreaming on things to come,
Can yet the lease of my true love control,
Suppos’d as forfeit to a cónfin’d doom.
The mortal Moon hath her eclipse endur’d,
And the sad Augurs mock their own presage,
Incertainties now crown them-selves assur’d,
And peace proclaims Olives of endless age.
Now with the drops of this most balmy time,
My love looks fresh, and death to me subscribes,
Since spite of him I’ll live in this poor rhyme,
While he insults o’er dull and speechless tribes.
And thou in this shalt find thy monument,
When tyrants crests and tombs of brass are spent.
The meter of Sonnet 107 is like nothing we’ve seen before. I find it mesmerizing. Like Sonnet 106, the beginning octet is highly irregular and the ensuing sestet is a dramatic contrast (it has only two irregular lines, an initial trochee-iamb in line 9 and a final spondee in line 11). The octet is so irregular—five lines have pyrrhics and, most unusually, line 1 has two of them—with the addition of three spondees and a midline trochee-iamb, the meter gives us the same sense of unattainability as the sonnet as a whole. The iambic pentameter is as hard to find as the meaning of the metaphors—but we feel it there in the background, inescapable. The change from the octave to the sestet underscores the change from the incorrect prophesies of a love that has an end (all vagueness and confusion) to the steadfast love immortalized in verse (clear and straightforward). The meter is worth reviewing in full. It’s a masterpiece of tone:
Not mine OWN FEARS, nor the proPHEtic SOUL
Of the WIDE WORLD, DREAming on THINGS to COME,
Can YET the LEASE of MY TRUE LOVE conTROL,
SupPOS’D as FORfeit to a CONFIN’D DOOM.
The MORtal MOON hath her eCLIPSE enDUR’D,
And the SAD AUgurs MOCK their OWN preSAGE,
InCERtainTIES now CROWN them-SELVES asSUR’D,
And PEACE proclaims OLives of ENDless AGE.
NOW with the DROPS of THIS most BALmy TIME,
My LOVE looks FRESH, and DEATH to ME subSCRIBES,
Since SPITE of HIM i’ll LIVE in THIS POOR RHYME,
While HE inSULTS o’er DULL and SPEECHless TRIBES.
And THOU in THIS shalt FIND thy MONuMENT,
When TYrants CRESTS and TOMBS of BRASS are SPENT.
108
What’s in the brain that Ink may character,
Which hath not figur’d to thee my true spirit,
What’s new to speak, what now to register,
That may express my love, or thy dear merit?
Nothing sweet boy, but yet like prayers divine,
I must each day say o’er the very same,
Counting no old thing old, thou mine, I thine,
Even as when first I hallowed thy fair name.
So that eternal love in love’s fresh case,
Weighs not the dust and injury of age,
Nor gives to necessary wrinkles place,
But makes antiquity for aye his page,
Finding the first conceit of love there bred,
Where time and outward form would show it dead.
The awkwardness of the meter in the first four lines matches the awkwardness of the question it poses. The ends of each line leave us off-balance, with the unnatural emphasis placed on the last syllables of character and register, and the short feminine endings of spirit and merit. Line 2 is highly irregular: “Which HATH not FIGur’d to THEE my TRUE SPIrit.” And while the iambs maintain their hold on the line, it sounds more like natural speech than any other line in the sonnet. The initial trochee-iambs of lines 5, 7 and 8 give a hectoring quality to the second quatrain. In the context, the spondees at the ends of lines 8 and 9 (“THY FAIR NAME”; “LOVE’S FRESH CASE”) sound mocking. Aside from the initial trochee-iamb that opens the couplet, the last six lines are otherwise regular, in contrast to the confusing ambiguities of the words.
109
O never say that I was false of heart,
Though absence seem’d my flame to qualify,
As easy might I from my self depart,
As from my soul which in thy breast doth lie.
That is my home of love; if I have rang’d,
Like him that travels I return again,
Just to the time, not with the time exchang’d,
So that my self bring water for my stain.
Never believe though in my nature reign’d,
All frailties that besiege all kinds of blood,
That it could so preposterously be stain’d,
To leave for nothing all thy sum of good.
For nothing this wide Universe I call,
Save thou, my Rose, in it thou art my all.
We’ve seen variations in meter in many sonnets. Often there’s been a regular meter at first, then a change to irregular meter. Other sonnets have had the opposite pattern. Sometimes the effect has been to emphasize lines, sometimes it’s been to put the reader off balance. In Sonnet 109, the irregular lines are limited to the middle (lines 5-9), all the others being regular. The only irregularities are trochee-iambs, three of them in all. Normally these provide emphasis. Here, occurring as they do in the most confusing section, I find they create imbalance. As if I should be able to understand what seems to be deliberately obscure. “THAT is my HOME”; “JUST to the TIME.” What do these phrases mean? My glosses may be correct, but I doubt they were even immediately obvious to a contemporary reader. (See Shakespeare’s Sonnets Among His Private Friends.) Yet we are asked “NEver to BElieve.” I find it all unsettling.
110
Alas, ’tis true, I have gone here and there,
And made my self a motley to the view,
Gor’d mine own thoughts, sold cheap what is most dear,
Made old offenses of affections new.
Most true it is, that I have look’d on truth
Askance and strangely: But by all above,
These blenches gave my heart another youth,
And worse assays prov’d thee my best of love.
Now all is done, have what shall have no end,
Mine appetite I never more will grind
On newer proof, to try an older friend,
A God in love, to whom I am confin’d.
Then give me welcome, next my heaven the best,
Even to thy pure and most, most loving breast.
The meter of Sonnet 110 is not dramatic. There are only two initial trochee-iambs (lines 3 and 14) to distract from the regular iambic pentameter. More interesting is the flow of the lines. There is no verse pause at the end of either line 5 or line 10. In line 5, the thought is continued to the middle of line 6 where it stops abruptly to start a new thought. In line 10, the thought continues through the whole of the next line and carries through to the end of the quatrain. It stops abruptly before the last two lines. As a result, the first two quatrains sound unbalanced, choppy, while the third sounds fluid, rushed. The couplet, tagged on at the end, sounds disconnected. Confession, excuse, promise, request—all with their own tempos.
111
O for my sake do you wish fortune chide,
The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds,
That did not better for my life provide,
Than public means which public manners breeds.
Thence comes it that my name receives a brand,
And almost thence my nature is subdu’d
To what it works in, like the Dyer’s hand.
Pity me then, and wish I were renew’d,
Whilst like a willing patient I will drink
Potions of Eisell ’gainst my strong infection,
No bitterness that I will bitter think,
Nor double penance to correct correction.
Pity me then dear friend, and I assure ye,
Even that your pity is enough to cure me.
Everything is very regular until we get to line 6, which has no pause at the end. The thought continues into the next line, pausing halfway through line 7 until the thought is completed at the end of the line. Four trochees emphasize the first words of lines 8, 10, 13, and 14: pity, potions, pity, even. Line 9 also has no pause at the end, the thought continuing through all of the next line. This helps drive the thought of the sonnet along with the imagery. The feminine endings in three of the last four lines continue the process.
112
Your love and pity doth th’ impression fill,
Which vulgar scandal stamp’d upon my brow,
For what care I who calls me well or ill,
So you o’er-green my bad, my good allow?
You are my All the world, and I must strive
To know my shames and praises from your tongue,
None else to me, nor I to none alive,
That my steel’d sense or changes right or wrong.
In so profound Abysm I throw all care
Of others’ voices, that my Adder’s sense
To critic and to flatterer stoppéd are.
Mark how with my neglect I do dispense:
You are so strongly in my purpose bred,
That all the world besides me thinks y’are dead.
Sonnet 112 is completely regular—14 lines of iambic pentameter. The rhythm is varied by shifting midline pauses, different syllable lengths and lines without end-line pauses (lines 5 and 9). The result is a speech-like quality. The difficult diction makes sense when you notice this effect. Pure iambic pentameter that reads like prose sentences with rhymes. The effect is dramatic.
113
Since I left you, mine eye is in my mind,
And that which governs me to go about,
Doth part his function, and is partly blind,
Seems seeing, but effectually is out;
For it no form delivers to the heart
Of bird, of flow’r, or shape which it doth latch,
Of his quick objects hath the mind no part,
Nor his own vision holds what it doth catch;
For if it see the rud’st or gentlest sight,
The most sweet-favor’d or deforméd’st creature,
The mountain, or the sea, the day, or night,
The Crow, or Dove, it shapes them to your feature.
Incapable of more, replete with you,
My most true mind thus maketh mine untrue.
There are few irregularities in Sonnet 113. I read only spondees in “SEEMS SEEing” (line 4) and “SWEET-FAvor’d” (line 10) and the feminine endings in lines 10 and 12. The rhythm is quite varied, though, with changing tempos from line to line. Even the lists in lines 6, 11 and 12 vary in speed so as not to sound boring. The rhythm helps make the sonnet sound happy.
114
Or whether doth my mind being crown’d with you
Drink up this monarch’s plague this flattery?
Or whether shall I say mine eye saith true,
And that your love taught it this Alchemy?
To make of monsters, and things indigest,
Such cherubins as your sweet self resemble,
Creating every bad a perfect best
As fast as objects to his beams assemble.
O ’tis the first, ’tis flatt’ry in my seeing,
And my great mind most kingly drinks it up,
Mine eye well knows what with his gust is ’greeing,
And to his palate doth prepare the cup.
If it be poison’d, ’tis the lesser sin,
That mine eye loves it and doth first begin.
Sonnet 114 is another regular sonnet with all iambs except for its four feminine endings (lines 6, 8, 9, 11). This simplicity balances the contorted imagery and reinforces its simple idea: flattery will get you everywhere.
115
Those lines that I before have writ do lie,
Even those that said I could not love you dearer,
But then my judgment knew no reason why,
My most full flame should afterwards burn clearer.
But reckoning time, whose million’d accidents
Creep in twixt vows, and change decrees of Kings,
Tan sacred beauty, blunt the sharp’st intents,
Diverts strong minds to th’ course of alt’ring things.
Alas, why fearing of time’s tyranny
Might I not then say ‘now I love you best,’
When I was certain o’er in-certainty,
Crowning the present, doubting of the rest.
Love is a babe, then might I not say so,
To give full growth to that which still doth grow.
Sonnet 115 is very irregular—there are only four regular lines (3, 5, 11, and 14). The feminine endings of lines 2 and 4 add a lilt to the first quatrain that adds to the funniness of the joke. Initial trochee-iambs dominate (lines 2, 6, 7, 12, and 13). Next are the spondees in line 4 (“My MOST FULL FLAME”), line 9, with two spondees separated by a pyrrhic in line 9 (“WHY FEARing of TIME’S TYranNY”), and line 10, with pyrrhic-trochee-spondee combination “Might i NOT then SAY ‘NOW i LOVE you BEST.’” All of these give the sonnet an emphatic quality. (I get the sense of a tongue-in-cheek “I really mean it!”)
116
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments, love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O no, it is an ever fixéd mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wand’ring bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come,
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even tot he edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me prov’d,
I never writ, nor no man ever lov’d.
The repetition of Sonnet 116 is duplicated in its meter, which is filled with unusual duplications. There are two double initial trochee-iambs, four spondees (double stresses), two in one line, and most unusually, five pyrrhics (double unstressed syllables), three of them in the middle of the lines. Here’s what it looks like:
LET me NOT to the MARriage of TRUE MINDS
AdMIT imPEDiMENTS, LOVE is not LOVE
Which ALters WHEN it ALteRAtion FINDS,
Or BENDS with the reMOver TO reMOVE.
O NO, it IS an EVer FIXèd MARK
That LOOKS on TEMpests and is NEver SHAken;
It is the STAR to EV’ry WANd’ring BARK,
Whose WORTH’S unKNOWN, alTHOUGH his HEIGHT be TAken.
LOVE’s not TIME’s fool, though ROsy LIPS and CHEEKS
WithIN his BENding SICkle’s COMpass COME,
LOVE ALters NOT with HIS BRIEF HOURS and WEEKS,
But BEARS it OUT EV’N TO the EDGE of DOOM.
If THIS be ERror and upON me PROV’D,
i NEver WRIT, nor NO man Ever LOV’D
A lot of emphasis on his undying love. Is it mock defiance? Defensiveness?
117
Accuse me thus, that I have scanted all,
Wherein I should your great deserts repay,
Forgot upon you dearest love to call,
Whereto all bonds do tie me day by day,
That I have frequent been with unknown minds,
And given to time your own dear purchas’d right,
That I have hoisted sail to all the winds
Which should transport me farthest from your sight.
Book both my willfulness and errors down,
And on just proof, surmise accumulate,
Bring me within the level of your frown,
But shoot not at me in your waken’d hate,
Since my appeal says I did strive to prove
The constancy and virtue of your love.
There are only two irregular lines in Sonnet 117. Line 6 has an iamb-spondee, putting three stressed syllables in a row: “your OWN DEAR PURchas’d RIGHT.” Line 11 has an initial trochee-iamb, which in this situation, serves to emphasize the entire line: “BRING me withIN the LEvel OF your FROWN.” With these two lines, surrounded by 12 regular lines, we hear most strongly those points W. is most interested in having stand out.
118
Like as to make our appetites more keen
With eager compounds we our palate urge,
As to prevent our maladies unseen,
We sicken to shun sickness when we purge.
Even so being full of your ne’er cloying sweetness,
To bitter sauces did I frame my feeding,
And sick of welfare found a kind of meetness,
To be diseas’d ere that there was true needing.
Thus policy in love t’anticipate
The ills that were not, grew to faults assured,
And brought to medicine a healthful state
Which rank of goodness would by ill be cured.
But thence I learn and find the lesson true,
Drugs poison him that so fell sick of you.
The first quatrain is not unusual—trochee-iambs in lines 1 and 3 set up the rhythm of those lines. The playfulness of the sonnet is suggested by the rhythm of the second quatrain, which has four feminine endings. But most arresting is line 5: “EV’N SO being FULL of your NE’ER CLOying SWEETness.” If the mere presence of the word didn’t make us think of Y.M.’s sweetness as cloying, the meter would make it hard for us to forget it.
119
What potions have I drunk of Siren tears
Distill’d from Limbecks foul as hell within,
Applying fears to hopes, and hopes to fears,
Still losing when I saw my self to win?
What wretched errors hath my heart committed,
Whilst it hath thought it self so blesséd never?
How have mine eyes out of their Spheres been fitted
In the distraction of this madding fever?
O benefit of ill, now I find true
That better is, by evil still made better.
And ruin’d love when it is built anew
Grows fairer than at first, more strong, far greater.
So I return, rebuk’d to my content,
And gain by ill thrice more than I have spent.
The second and third quatrains are dominated by feminine endings (lines 4-8, 10 and 12). After the regular beginning, I find it surprising how the feminine endings insinuate themselves into the sonnet without drawing much attention. The usual sing-song effect is not prominent. Nor is the lightening of tone we have often seen. The effect I hear is a lengthening that leads up to and supports the comparatives of the third quatrain and the couplet: better, greater, thrice more.
120
That you were once unkind befriends me now,
And for that sorrow, which I then did feel,
Needs must I under my transgression bow,
Unless my Nerves were brass or hammered steel.
For if you were by my unkindness shaken
As I by yours, y’ have past a hell of Time,
And I a tyrant have no leisure taken
To weigh how once I suffered in your crime.
O that our night of woe might have rememb’red
My deepest sense, how hard true sorrow hits,
And soon to you, as you to me then tend’red
The humble salve, which wounded bosoms fits!
But that your trespass now becomes a fee,
Mine ransoms yours, and yours must ransom me.
The second and third quatrains are dominated by feminine endings (lines 4-8, 10 and 12). After the regular beginning, I find it surprising how the feminine endings insinuate themselves into the sonnet without drawing much attention. The usual sing-song effect is not prominent. Nor is the lightening of tone we have often seen. The effect I hear is a lengthening that leads up to and supports the comparatives of the third quatrain and the couplet: better, greater, thrice more.
121
’Tis better to be vile than vile esteem’d,
When not to be, receives reproach of being,
And the just pleasure lost, which is so deem’d,
Not by our feeling, but by others’ seeing.
For why should others’ false adulterate eyes
Give salutation to my sportive blood?
Or on my frailties why are frailer spies,
Which in their wills count bad what I think good?
No, I am that I am, and they that level
At my abuses, reckon up their own,
I may be straight though they them-selves be bevel;
By their rank thoughts, my deeds must not be shown,
Unless this general evil they maintain:
‘All men are bad and in their badness reign.’
The first four lines are very irregular, each of them containing a pyrrhic, the first two in the second foot, the third in the first, and the last in the third. Line 3 has a spondee following the pyrrhic: (“And the JUST PLEAsure). Line 4 has an initial trochee-iamb (“NOT by our FEELing but by OTHers’ SEEing.) And there are feminine endings in lines 2 and 4. The result, though, is not a choppy quatrain, but one that reads like prose—except for the rhymes, which remain prominent. The irregular rhythm has the effect of guiding the pattern of emphasis, but each line is strongly end-stopped, allowing the rhymes to resonate. Even more fascinating is the completely regular second quatrain that fits smoothly with the first. Despite their regularity, these four lines can also be read as prose. There’s very little alteration of word order to give us pause and all the lines are also strongly end stopped. The rhymes remain evident but not overwhelming. And then there’s line 9. It starts with two back-to-back trochees and an iamb : “NO i AM that i AM.” This powerful opening begins an unbroken series of iambs except for the feminine endings in lines 9 and 11. And although the thought of line 9 runs on to line 10, its feminine ending prevents us from losing the rhyme of level with bevel. We maintain the same sense that we are simultaneously reading prose and poetry. The final couplet reads like so many couplets we find at the end of Shakespeare’s scenes—as an emphatic closing argument. “There! I’ve wrapped it up!” Let’s see what’s next.
122
Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brain
Full character’d with lasting memory,
Which shall above that idle rank remain
Beyond all date even to eternity.
Or at the least, so long as brain and heart
Have faculty by nature to subsist,
’Til each to raz’d oblivion yield his part
Of thee, thy record never can be miss’d:
That poor retention could not so much hold,
Nor need I tallies thy dear love to score,
Therefore to give them from me was I bold,
To trust those tables that receive thee more.
To keep an adjunct to remember thee,
Were to import forgetfulness in me.
The only irregularity in Sonnet 122 is the midline trochee-iamb in line 4: “BeYOND All DATE EV’N to eTERniTY.” As if emphasizing the lasting memory could erase the grave mistake he made (and gloss over the exception that follows in the next quatrain).
123
No! Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change,
Thy pyramids built up with newer might
To me are nothing novel, nothing strange,
They are but dressings of a former sight.
Our dates are brief, and therefore we admire
What thou dost foist upon us that is old,
And rather make them born to our desire,
Than think that we before have heard them told.
Thy registers and thee I both defy,
Not wond’ring at the present, nor the past,
For thy recórds, and what we see doth lie,
Made more or less by thy continual haste.
This I do vow and this shall ever be,
I will be true despite thy scythe and thee.
Sonnet 123, like the previous sonnet, has only one irregular line. In this case, it is line 1, which starts with a spondee: “NO! TIME, thou SHALT not BOAST.” Deny, deny, deny. I will be true, he says. Or he hopes?
124
If my dear love were but the child of state,
It might for fortune’s bastard be unfather’d,
As subject to times love, or to times hate,
Weeds among weeds, or flowers with flowers gather’d.
No it was builded far from accident,
It suffers not in smiling pomp, nor falls
Under the blow of thralléd discontent,
Whereto th’ inviting time our fashion calls;
It fears not policy that Heretic,
Which works on leases of short numb’red hours,
But all alone stands hugely politic,
That it nor grows with heat, nor drowns with showers.
To this I witness call the fools of time,
Which die for goodness, who have liv’d for crime.
The rhythm of this sonnet is as intricate as its language. The midline break moves around to almost every position in the line, occurring at every foot except the third. There are feminine endings in lines 2, 4, 10, and 12 trochee-iambs in lines 4, 5, and 7. The initial trochee-iamb in line 7 is interesting because the thought of line 6 flows into line 7 without stopping. Normally, there would be no pause at the end of line 6, but the stress on the first syllable of line 7 prevents a smooth flow between the lines. The sound is very close to an end-stopped line. But the most interesting lines are 3 and 10. After an initial iamb, line 3 has alternating pyrrhics and spondees: “As SUBject to TIME’S LOVE, or to TIME’S HATE.” The rhythm of line 10 is enhanced by the placement of the midline pause, which occurs in the middle of a pyrrhic, adding more emphasis to the first syllable of the following spondee: “Which WORKS on LEASes | of SHORT NUMbr’d HOurs.” Finally, another pyrrhic divides the last line in half, enhancing the emphasis on the surrounding phrases: “Which DIE for GOODness who have LIV’D for CRIME.”
125
Were’t aught to me I bore the canopy,
With my extern the outward honoring,
Or laid great bases for eternity,
Which proves more short than waste or ruining?
Have I not seen dwellers on form and favor
Lose all, or more by paying too much rent
For compound sweet; Forgoing simple savor,
Pitiful thrivers in their gazing spent.
No, let me be obsequious in thy heart,
And take thou my oblation, poor but free,
Which is not mix’d with seconds, knows no art,
But mutual render only me for thee.
Hence, thou suborn’d Informer, a true soul
When most impeach’d, stands least in thy control.
There are all sorts of irregularities in Sonnet 125: a spondee-pyrrhic (line 9) and a pyrrhic-spondee (line 2), initial (lines 8 and 13) and midline (line 5) trochee-iambs, feminine endings (lines 5 and 7) and a lone final spondee (line 13). But what strikes me most is the way none of these have their usual rhythmic effects. Instead, they bend the iambic pentameter to the poet’s purpose. They allow us to read these fourteen lines as prose with rhymes scattered through them. This effect is even stronger than it was in Sonnet 121. The sense of the second quatrain runs on here through the end of line 6, pauses briefly in the middle of line 7, pauses again at the end of the line until it stops dead at the end of line 8. There’s a breathlessness about the phrasing of the quatrains that is so different from the usual rhythms of a sonnet. There’s a maturity that blends prose and poetry in a way that makes it hard to distinguish them. I find its power immense.