Shakespeare's Sonnetsby William Shakespeare
This prize-winning work provides a facsimile of the 1609 Quarto printed in parallel with a conservatively edited, modernized text, as well as commentary that ranges from brief glosses to substantial critical essays. Stephen Booth's notes help a modern reader toward the kind of understanding that Renaissance readers brought to the works.
"Explications and analyses that will greatly enhance a reader’s understanding and enjoyment."—New York Times Book Review (on an earlier edition)
"The engaging commentarywith its wit, energy, and sane convictionmakes a plea for a reading of the sonnets that values meanings which may not be intellectually convenient or the basis of a unified interpretation. For purists, the Quarto text is printed parallel to the modernized text."Library Journal (on an earlier edition)
"This edition of the sonnets is a heroic enterprise. . . . [Booth’s] annotation does far more than any previous edition to show the fantastically rich way that Shakespeare exploits the verbal resources of his culture. . . . No serious reader of the sonnets will want to do without Booth’s edition."—C. L. Barber, New York Review of Books (on an earlier edition)
"Booth’s edition, like Shakespeare’s sonnets, is something of a miracle. His extensive commentary, like the poems it describes, is a dazzling commixture of intricate detail, multiplicity, bombast, bawdiness, suppleness, and grandeur. . . . [It] will enlarge and alter its reader’s experience—of the sonnets, of the plays, and of other texts as well."—Carol Thomas Neely, Modern Philology (on an earlier edition)
"May well become a standard, incorporating as it does in one volume much of what is needed for a serious study of the sonnets. . . . Anyone from advanced undergraduate to scholarly specialist will probably make this book one of his first references on matters concerning the sonnets of Shakespeare."Choice (on an earlier edition)
"Undoubtedly, this edition constitutes a landmark in Shakespearean criticism. . . . [It] is a work of first-rate importance, hopefully a precursor of a long-needed revolution in our understanding of reading Shakespeare."G. F. Waller, Dalhousie Review (on an earlier edition)
"Refreshingly different, Professor Booth's book reduces the usual questions about biography, dating, and ordering the poems to six pages of an appendix, while the four hundred pages of notes continue the exciting amplification of possibilities in reading that he began in his well-received An Essay on Shakespeare's Sonnets. . . . There is little question that the reader will return to the poems with greater sensitivity to their possibilities, to echoes, to patterns that make them richer than before."—Shakespeare Studies (on an earlier edition)
"The book seems to me to be indispensable to the serious student of Shakespeare's Sonnets, as well as being a repository of relevant information and sound critical sense for 'the common reader' who wants to deepen his understanding and enjoyment of these remarkableand often bafflingpoems."L. C. Knights (on an earlier edition)
- Start Publishing LLC
- Publication date:
- Sold by:
- SIMON & SCHUSTER
- NOOK Book
- Sales rank:
- File size:
- 268 KB
Read an Excerpt
Shakespeare's Sonnets and Poems
By William Shakespeare
Washington Square Press
Copyright © 1988
All right reserved.
Reading Shakespeare's Language: Sonnets
The language of Shakespeare's Sonnets, like that of poetry in general, is both highly compressed and highly structured. While most often discussed in terms of its images and its metrical and other formal structures, the language of the Sonnets, like that of Shakespeare's plays, also repays close attention to such basic linguistic elements as words, word order, and sentence structure.
Because Shakespeare's sonnets were written four hundred years ago, they inevitably contain words that are unfamiliar today. Some are words that are no longer in general use -- words that the dictionaries label archaic or obsolete, or that have so fallen out of use that dictionaries no longer include them. One surprising feature of the Sonnets is how rarely such archaic words appear. Among the more than a thousand words that make up the first ten sonnets, for instance, only eleven are not to be found in current usage: self-substantial ("derived from one's own substance"), niggarding ("being miserly"), unfair ("deprive of beauty"), leese ("lose"), happies ("makes happy"), steep-up ("precipitous"), highmost("highest"), hap ("happen"), unthrift ("spendthrift"), unprovident ("improvident"), and ruinate ("reduce to ruins"). Somewhat more common in the Sonnets are words that are still in use but that in Shakespeare's day had meanings that are no longer current. In the first three sonnets, for example, we find only used where we might say "peerless" or "preeminent," gaudy used to mean "brilliantly fine," weed where we would say "garment," glass where we would say "mirror," and fond where we would say "foolish." Words of this kind -- that is, words that are no longer used or that are used with unfamiliar meanings -- will be defined in our facing-page notes.
The most significant feature of Shakespeare's word choice in the Sonnets is his use of words in which multiple meanings function simultaneously. In line 5 of the first sonnet, for example, the word contracted means "bound by contract, bethrothed," but it also carries the sense of "limited, shrunken." Its double meaning enables the phrase "contracted to thine own bright eyes" to say succinctly to the young man not only that he has betrothed himself to his own good looks but that he has also thereby become a more limited person. In a later line in the same sonnet ("Within thine own bud buriest thy content" [s. 1.11]), the fact that thy content means both (1) "that which is contained within you, specifically, your seed, that with which you should produce a child," and (2) "your happiness" enables the line to say, in a highly compressed fashion, that by refusing to propagate, refusing to have a child, the young man is destroying his own future well-being.
It is in large part through choosing words that carry more than one pertinent meaning that Shakespeare packs into each sonnet almost incalculable richness of thought and imagery. In the opening line of the first sonnet ("From fairest creatures we desire increase"), each of the words fairest, creatures, and increase carries multiple relevant senses; when these combine with each other, the range of significations in this single line is enormous. In Shakespeare's day, the word fair primarily meant "beautiful," but it had recently also picked up the meaning of "blond" and "fair-skinned." In this opening line of Sonnet 1, the meaning "blond" is probably not operative (though it becomes extremely pertinent when the word fair is used in later sonnets), but the aristocratic (or upper-class) implications of "fair-skinned" are very much to the point (or so argues Margreta de Grazia; see Further Reading), since upper-class gentlemen and ladies need not work out of doors and expose their skins to wind and sun. (The negative class implications of outdoor labor carried in the sonnets by "dark" or "tanned" are carried today in the label "redneck.") The second word, creatures, had several meanings, referring, for example, to everything created by God, including the plant kingdom, while in some contexts referring specifically to human beings. When combined with the third word, increase (which meant, among its pertinent definitions, "procreation," "breeding," "offspring," "a child," "crops," and "fruit"), the word creatures takes the reader's mind to Genesis 1.28 and God's instructions to humankind to multiply and be fruitful, while the plant-life connotation of all three of the words provides a context for later words in the sonnet, such as rose, famine, abundance, spring, and bud. The words Shakespeare places in this first line ("From fairest creatures we desire increase") -- with their undoubted link to concerns about upper-class propagation and inheritance -- could well have alerted a contemporary reader to the sonnet's place in a familiar rhetorical tradition, that concerned with persuading a young gentleman to marry in order to reproduce and thus secure his family line and its heritable property. (See Erasmus's "Epistle to persuade a young gentleman to marriage," excerpted in the Appendix, pages 619-24.)
While almost every line of the 154 sonnets begs for a comparable unpacking of Shakespeare's words, we will here limit ourselves to two additional examples, these from lines 2 and 4 of the same sonnet (Sonnet 1). First, the word rose in the phrase beauty's rose (line 2) engages the reader's mind and imagination at many levels. Most simply, it refers simultaneously to the rose blossom and the rosebush; this double signification, as Stephen Booth points out (see Further Reading), enables the sonnet to acknowledge that although the individual person, like the rose blossom, inevitably withers and dies, the family line, like the rosebush, lives on through continual increase. But the rose signifies as well that which is most beautiful in the natural world. (See, e.g., Isaiah 35.1: "The desert and the wilderness shall rejoice; the waste ground shall be glad and flourish as the rose.") And beauty's rose not only meant youthful beauty but also inevitably called up memories of the Romance of the Rose (widely published in Chaucer's translation), in which the rose stands allegorically for the goal of the lover's quest. (The fact that the lover in the Romance desires a specific unopened rosebud, rather than one of the rosebush's opened flowers, may have implications for the word bud in line 11.)
The word rose, then, gains its multiple resonances by referring to both a flower and its bush and through meanings accumulated in cultural and poetic traditions. In contrast, the particular verbal richness of the word his in line 4, "His tender heir might bear his memory" (and in many of the other sonnets), exists because Shakespeare took advantage of a language change in process at the very time he was writing. Until around 1600 the pronoun his served double duty, meaning both his and its. However, in the late 1590s and early 1600s, the word its came into existence as possessive of it, and his began gradually to be limited to the meaning it has today as the possessive of he. Because of the emerging gender implications of his, the pronoun as used in line 4, while primarily meaning its and thus referring to beauty's rose, also serves as a link between the sonnet's first line, where the fairest creature is not yet a rose, and the young man, first directly addressed in line 5.
Because the diction of the Sonnets is so incredibly rich in meanings, and because space for our facing-page notes is limited, we have had to curtail severely our notes on words with multiple meanings. Where the primary meaning of a word is clear and where secondary meanings are readily available or are not essential to an understanding of the poem, we all too often have had to remain silent. When it seems possible that a given word might have more than one relevant meaning, the reader should test out possible additional meanings and decide if they add richness to the line. The only hazard here is that some words have picked up new meanings since Shakespeare's death; careful study of the diction of his Sonnets thus compels one to turn to a dictionary based on historical principles, such as the Oxford English Dictionary.
When Shakespeare made the decision to compose his Sonnets using the English (in contrast to the Italian) sonnet form, he seems at the same time to have settled on the shape of the Sonnets' sentences. The two forms are distinguished by rhyme scheme: in the Italian sonnet, the rhyme scheme in effect divides the poem into two sections, the eight-line octave followed by the six-line sestet; in the English, it sets three four-line quatrains in parallel, followed by the two-line rhyming couplet. While Shakespeare finds almost infinite ways to provide variety within the tightly controlled form of the English sonnet, and while the occasional sonnet is made up of a single sentence (e.g., Sonnet 29), his sentences tend to shape themselves within the bounds set by the quatrain and the couplet -- that is, most quatrains and most couplets are each made up of one sentence or question, with occasional quatrains made up of two or more sentences or questions. (Quatrains that, in modern printed editions, end with a semicolon rather than a period or question mark are often so marked only to indicate that the thought continues into the next quatrain; syntactically, the clause is generally independent and could be completed with a period instead.) The reader therefore seldom finds in the Sonnets the long, complicated sentences often encountered in Shakespeare's plays. One does, though, find within the sentences the inversions, the interruptions of normal word order, and the postponements of essential sentence elements that are familiar to readers of the plays.
In the Sonnets as in the plays, for example, Shakespeare often rearranges subjects and verbs (i.e., instead of "He goes" we find "Goes he"); he frequently places the object before the subject and verb (i.e., instead of "I hit him," we might find "Him I hit"), and he puts adverbs and adverbial phrases before the subject and verb (i.e., "I hit fairly" becomes "Fairly I hit"). The first sonnet in the sequence, in fact, opens with an inversion, with the adverbial phrase "From fairest creatures" moved forward from its ordinary syntactical position after the verb. This transformation of the sentence "We desire increase from fairest creatures" into "From fairest creatures we desire increase" (s. 1.1) has a significant effect on the rhythm of the line and places the emphasis of the sentence immediately on the "fairest" creature who will be the topic of this and many sonnets to follow. In Sonnet 2 the sentence "Thy beauty's use would deserve much more praise" is transformed into "How much more praise deserved thy beauty's use" (s. 2.9), in large part through a double inversion: the transposing of the subject ("thy beauty's use") and the verb ("deserved") and the placing of the object before the inverted subject and verb. Again, the impact on the rhythm of the line is significant, and the bringing of the word praise toward the beginning of the line emphasizes the word's echo of and link to the preceding line ("Were an all-eating shame and thriftless praise") through its reiteration of the word praise and through repetition of the vowel sound in shame.
Occasionally the inversions in the Sonnets seem primarily to provide the poet with a needed rhyme word. In Sonnet 3, for example, the difference between "she calls back / In thee the lovely April of her prime" and "she in thee / Calls back the lovely April of her prime" (s. 3.9-10) seems largely to rest on the poet's choice of "thee" rather than "back" for the sonnet's rhyme scheme. However, Shakespeare's inversions in the Sonnets often create a space for ambiguity and thus for increased richness and compression. Sometimes the ambiguity exists only for a moment, until the eye and mind progress further along the line and the reader sees that one of the initially possible meanings cannot be sustained. For example, in Sonnet 5, the line "And that unfair which fairly doth excel" (s. 5.4) seems initially to present "that unfair" as the demonstrative adjective that followed by another adjective, unfair, until a reading of the whole line reveals that there is no noun for these apparent adjectives to modify, and that "that unfair" is more likely an inversion of the verb to unfair and its object, the pronoun that. The line thus means simply "deprive that of beauty which fairly excels" -- though wordplay on fairly as (1) "completely," (2) "properly," and/or (3) "in beauty" makes the line far from simple.
Often the doubleness of meaning created by the inversion remains unresolved. In Sonnet 3, for example, the line "But if thou live remembered not to be" (s. 3.13) clearly contains an inversion in the words "remembered not to be"; however, it is unclear whether "remembered not to be" inverts "to be not remembered" (i.e., "[only] to be forgotten") or "not to be remembered" (i.e., "[in order] to be forgotten"). Thus, while the primary meaning of the line may well be "if you live in such a way that you will not be remembered," the reader cannot dismiss the line's simultaneous suggestion that the young man is living "with the intent of being forgotten" (Booth). The inversion, in other words, allows the line to carry two distinct tones, one of warning and the other of accusation.
Inversions are not the only unusual sentence structures in Shakespeare's language. Often in his Sonnets as in his plays, words that would in a normal English sentence appear together are separated from each other, usually in order to create a particular rhythm or to stress a particular word or phrase. In Sonnet 1, for example, in lines 5-6 ("But thou, contracted to thine own bright eyes, / Feed'st thy light's flame with self-substantial fuel"), the subject thou is separated from its verb feed'st by a phrase that, because of its placement, focuses sharp attention on the young man's looks and the behavior that the poet sees as defining him. A few lines later in the same sonnet,
Thou that art now the world's fresh ornament
And only herald to the gaudy spring
Within thine own bud buriest thy content . . .
the subject Thou is separated from its verb buriest, first by a clause that in its extreme praise ("that art now the world's fresh ornament / And only herald to the gaudy spring") is in interesting and direct contrast to the tone of accusation of the basic sentence elements within which the clause is set ("Thou buriest thy content"); the separation is further extended through the inversion that moves forward a prepositional phrase ("Within thine own bud") that would in ordinary syntax come after the verb. Line 12 of this same sonnet -- "And, tender churl, mak'st waste in niggarding" -- exemplifies a familiar kind of interruption in these poems, namely, an interjected compound vocative. Direct address to the beloved in the form of compound epithets, especially where one term of the compound ("tender") contradicts the other ("churl"), in meaning or in tone, is a device that Shakespeare uses frequently in the Sonnets, heightening the emotional tone and creating the kind of puzzle that makes the poems so intellectually intriguing. (Sonnet 4, for example, contains three such vocatives: "Unthrifty loveliness," "beauteous niggard," and "Profitless usurer.")
Sometimes, rather than separating basic sentence elements, Shakespeare simply holds back the subject and predicate, delaying them until other material to which he wants to give particular emphasis has been presented. The first quatrain of Sonnet 2 holds off until line 3 the presentation of the subject of the sentence, and delays the verb until line 4:
When forty winters shall besiege thy brow
And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field,
Thy youth's proud livery, so gazed on now,
Will be a tattered weed of small worth held.
In this quatrain, the subject and predicate, "thy . . . livery . . . will be a tattered weed," are held back while for two lines the poet draws a vivid picture of the young man as he will look in middle age. Sonnet 2 is, in effect, an attempt to persuade, an exhortation to the recipient to change; the powerful description of youth attacked by the forces of time gains much of its strength from its placement in advance of the basic sentence elements. (One need only reverse the order of the lines, placing lines 3-4 before lines 1-2, to see how much power the poem loses with that reversal.)
In addition to the delaying device, the quatrain contains two further Shakespearean sentence strategies -- a subject/verb interruption in lines 3-4 followed by a compression in line 4. The phrase "so gazed on now," which separates the subject and verb ("livery . . . will be"), stresses both the beauty of the young man and the briefness of the moment for which that beauty will exist. The last line, an example of the kind of compression that one finds throughout the Sonnets, would, if fully unpacked and its inversion reversed, read "[that will be] held [to be] a tattered weed of small worth."
Metaphor and Metrical Effects
This first quatrain of Sonnet 2 can serve as a small example not only of some of Shakespeare's sentence strategies but also of how his word choice and word order operate to create the visual and musical effects that distinguish the Sonnets. While this topic is so large that we can only touch on it here, it seems appropriate to look at least briefly at two of the Sonnets' most important poetic techniques -- metaphor and metrical effects.
The metaphor, a primary device of poetry, can be defined as a play on words in which one object or idea is expressed as if it were something else, something with which it is said to share common features. In the first quatrain of Sonnet 2 (quoted earlier), the young man's forehead, "so gazed on now," is imaged as a "field" that Time places under siege, digging "deep trenches" in its now youthful smoothness. The metaphor fast-forwards the aging process, turning the youth's smooth forehead in imagination into a furrowed, lined brow. While the word "field" could allude to any kind of open land or plain, the words "besiege" and "trenches" make it more specifically a battlefield ravaged by the armies of "forty winters." In line 3 the metaphor shifts, and the young man's youthful beauty is imaged as his "livery," a kind of uniform or splendid clothing that under the onslaught of time will become a "tattered weed" (weed having here the meaning "garment"). The quatrain seems, then, divided into two parts, with the metaphor shifting from that of the brow as a field to the brow (and other youthful features) as clothing. But the word weed carries its inevitable, though here secondary, meaning of an unwanted plant in a "field" of grass or flowers. This wordplay, which expands the scope of the word field, forces the reader to turn from line 4 back to lines 1 and 2, to visualize again the ravaged "field" of the once-smooth brow, and thus to experience with double force the quatrain's final phrase "of small worth held" -- a phrase that syntactically belongs only to the tattered clothing but that, in the quatrain's overlapping metaphors, applies more broadly to the young man himself, now "so gazed on" but moving inevitably toward the day when he, no longer beautiful, will be considered "of small worth."
We mentioned at the outset that the language of the Sonnets is, like poetic language in general, highly structured. Nowhere is this fact more in evidence than in the rhythm of the Sonnets' lines. All of the Sonnets (except for Sonnet 145) are written in what is called "iambic pentameter" (that is, each line is composed of five metrical "feet," with each foot containing two syllables, usually with the first syllable unstressed and the second stressed). But within this general pattern, Shakespeare takes advantage of several features that characterize pronunciation in English -- for example, the syllable stresses that inhere in all English words of more than one syllable, as well as the stress patterns in normal English sentences -- and he arranges his words to create amazing metrical variety within the structure of the iambic pentameter line.
To return to the first quatrain of Sonnet 2: the first line of the sonnet ("When forty winters shall besiege thy brow") contains three two-syllable words; two carry stress on the first syllable ("forty" and "winter") and one is stressed on the second syllable ("besiege"). Shakespeare combines these words with four one-syllable words, three of which are unstressed in normal English sentences -- a conjunction ("When"), an auxiliary verb ("shall"), and a possessive pronoun ("thy"). The resulting combination of words produces an almost perfect iambic pentameter (the only departure being the pyrrhic third foot, with its two unstressed syllables -- "-ters shall"): "When for'ty win'ters shall besiege' thy brow'." After thus establishing the meter, the poet can depart radically from the iambic in line 2 without creating confusion about the poem's overall metrical structure. Line 2 ("And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field") begins with an iamb ("And dig'") but then moves to a "spondee," a foot with two stressed syllables ("deep' trench'-"); the resulting rhythm for the opening of the line is the very strong series of three stressed syllables of "dig' deep' trench'-." The line then moves to the unstressed syllables in the pyrrhic foot ("-es in") before ending in iambic meter ("thy beau'ty's field'") -- a pattern that produces three unstressed syllables in mid-line. Line 3 ("Thy youth's proud livery, so gazed on now") echoes the opening rhythm of line 2 -- that is, an iamb followed by a spondee to create three stressed syllables ("Thy youth's' proud' liv'-") again followed by three unstressed syllables ("-er-y so"); but then, instead of returning to the iambic, as did line 2, the line concludes with another group of three stressed syllables ("gazed' on' now'"). Line 4 seems to return us to the base of iambic pentameter ("Will be' a tat'tered weed' of small'") only to end with a spondee ("worth' held'"), so that the beat of three stressed syllables (heard once in line 2 and twice in line 3) concludes the quatrain. It is to Shakespeare's skillful use of the unstressed pyrrhic foot that George Wright (see Further Reading, "An Art of Small Differences") credits much of the "softness and musical grace" of the Sonnets. "The strong iambs and spondees," he writes, rise from this pyrrhic base, a contrast that allows important spondaic and iambic syllables to gain special emphasis. In the lines we have been examining in Sonnet 2, one can see how the pyrrhics direct attention to such key words and phrases as "besiege" and "gazed on now."
With metaphors and metrics, as with word choice, word order, and sentence structure, every sonnet provides its own richness and its own variations, as well as occasional exceptions to any generalizations we have suggested. (Two of the Sonnets, for example, deviate even from the standard fourteen-line length, with Sonnet 99 having 15 lines and Sonnet 126 having only 12.) But each sonnet provides rich language, a wonderfully controlled tone, and an intellectual challenge sufficient to reward the most patient and dedicated reader.
Few collections of poems -- indeed, few literary works in general -- intrigue, challenge, tantalize, and reward as do Shakespeare's Sonnets. Almost all of them love poems, the Sonnets philosophize, celebrate, attack, plead, and express pain, longing, and despair, all in a tone of voice that rarely rises above a reflective murmur, all spoken as if in an inner monologue or dialogue, and all within the tight structure of the English sonnet form.
Individual sonnets have become such a part of present-day culture that, for example, Sonnet 116 ("Let me not to the marriage of true minds") is a fixture of wedding ceremonies today, and Sonnet 18 ("Shall I compare thee to a summer's day"), Sonnet 29 ("When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes"), and Sonnet 73 ("That time of year thou mayst in me behold") -- to name only a few -- are known and quoted in the same way that famous lines and passages are quoted from Hamlet or Romeo and Juliet or Macbeth. Yet it is not just the beauty and power of individual well-known sonnets that tantalize us, but also the story that the sequence as a whole seems to tell about Shakespeare's love life. The 154 sonnets were published in 1609 with an enigmatic dedication, presumably from the publisher Thomas Thorpe: "To The Onlie Begetter Of These Insuing Sonnets. Mr. W.H." Attempts to identify "Mr. W.H." have become inevitably entangled with the narrative that insists on emerging whenever one reads the Sonnets sequentially as they are ordered in the 1609 Quarto.
The narrative goes something like this: The poet (i.e., William Shakespeare) begins with a set of 17 sonnets advising a beautiful young man (seemingly an aristocrat, perhaps "Mr. W.H." himself) to marry and produce a child in the interest of preserving the family name and property but even more in the interest of reproducing the young man's remarkable beauty in his offspring. These poems of advice modulate into a set of sonnets which urge the poet's love for the young man and which claim that the young man's beauty will be preserved in the very poems that we are now reading. This second set of sonnets (Sonnets 18-126), which in the supposed narrative celebrate the poet's love for the young man, includes clusters of poems that seem to tell of such specific events as the young man's mistreatment of the poet, the young man's theft of the poet's mistress, the appearance of "rival poets" who celebrate the young man and gain his favor, the poet's separation from the young man through travel or through the young man's indifference, and the poet's infidelity to the young man. After this set of 109 poems, the Sonnets concludes with a third set of 28 sonnets to or about a woman who is presented as dark and treacherous and with whom the poet is sexually obsessed. Several of these sonnets seem also to involve the beautiful young man, who is, according to the Sonnets' narrative, also enthralled by the "dark lady."
The power of the narrative sketched above is so strong that counterevidence putting in doubt its validity seems to matter very little. Most critics and editors agree, for example, that it is only in specific clusters that the sonnets are actually linked, and that close attention to the sequence reveals the collection to be more an anthology of poems written perhaps over many years and perhaps to or about different men and women. Most are also aware that only about 25 of the 154 sonnets specify the sex of the beloved, and that in the century following the Sonnets' publication, readers who copied individual sonnets into their manuscript collections gave them titles that show, for example, that sonnets such as Sonnet 2 were seen as carpe diem ("seize the day") poems addressed "To one that would die a maid." Such facts, such recognitions, nevertheless, lose out to the narrative pull exerted by the 1609 collection. The complex and intriguing persona of the poet created by the language of the Sonnets, the pattern of emotions so powerfully sustained through the sequence, the sense of the presence of the aristocratic young man and the seductive dark lady -- all are so strong that few editors can resist describing the Sonnets apart from their irresistible story. (Our own introduction to the language of the Sonnets, for example, discusses Sonnet 2 as a poem addressed to the beautiful young man, despite the fact that the sex of the poem's recipient is not specified and despite our awareness that in the seventeenth century, this extremely popular poem was represented consistently as being written to a young woman.) Individually and as a sequence, these poems remain more powerful than the mere mortals who read or study or edit them.
For a very helpful exploration of the Sonnets as they are read today, we invite you to read "A Modern Perspective" written by Professor Lynne Magnusson of the University of Toronto and printed at the back of this book.
An Introduction to This Text
A complete text of the Sonnets was first published in a 1609 Quarto titled SHAKE-SPEARES SONNETS. Neuer before Imprinted. The present edition is based directly on that printing. The 1609 Quarto prints immediately before its text of the poems a dedication page that reads as follows (each word printed entirely in capitals, except for "Mr.," and followed by a period): "TO. THE. ONLIE. BEGETTER. OF. THESE. INSVING. SONNETS. Mr. W.H. ALL. HAPPINESSE. AND. THAT. ETERNITIE. PROMISED. BY. OVR.EVER-LIVING. POET. WISHETH. THE. WELL-WISHING. ADVENTVRER. IN. SETTING. FORTH. T.T. [i.e., Thomas Thorpe, publisher of the Quarto]." Scholars have long speculated on the identity of "Mr. W.H." without arriving at any widely accepted conclusion. Following the Sonnets in the 1609 Quarto appears a poem of disputed authorship titled "A Louers complaint," which is not included in this edition.
In addition to providing an edited text of the 1609 Quarto version of the Sonnets, we include on pages 330-31 alternative texts of two of the sonnets (Sonnet 138 and Sonnet 144) that were first printed ten years before this quarto in a book titled The Passionate Pilgrime. By W. Shakespeare. The 1599 attribution of the entire Passionate Pilgrime to Shakespeare is misleading because much of the verse collected in it is not his; however, it does contain the earliest printing of the two sonnets in question, and for this reason those texts deserve consideration. There also exist a number of manuscript copies of particular sonnets, none of them thought to be in Shakespeare's own handwriting. Nonetheless, it has recently been argued that among these may lie an alternative Shakespearean version of Sonnet 2, as well as versions of other sonnets (8, 106, 128) that may derive from manuscript sources independent of that from which the 1609 Quarto was printed. We have, however, been persuaded by Katherine Duncan-Jones's argument in her 1997 Arden edition of the Sonnets, where she cogently refutes the claims for the authenticity of the Sonnet 2 manuscript version and also puts into serious question the independent authority of the other surviving manuscript texts. We thus have not included any manuscript versions in this edition.
For the convenience of the reader, we have modernized the punctuation and the spelling of the Quarto. Whenever we change the wording of the Quarto or add anything to it, we mark the change by enclosing it in superior half-brackets . We want our readers to be immediately aware when we have intervened. (Only when we correct an obvious typographical error in the Quarto does the change not get marked.) Whenever we change the Quarto's wording or alter its punctuation so that meaning changes, we list the change in the textual notes at the back of the book, even if all we have done is fix an obvious error.
The Explanatory Notes
The notes that appear on the pages facing the text are designed to provide readers with the help that they may need to enjoy the poems. Whenever the primary meaning of a word in the text is not readily accessible in a good contemporary dictionary, we offer the meaning in a note. Sometimes we provide a note even when the relevant meaning is to be found in the dictionary but when the word has acquired since Shakespeare's time other potentially confusing meanings. In our notes, we try to offer modern synonyms for Shakespeare's words. We also try to indicate to the reader the connection between the word in the sonnet and the modern synonym. For example, Shakespeare sometimes uses the word glass to mean mirror, but, for modern readers, there may be no connection evident between these two words. We provide the connection by explaining Shakespeare's usage as follows: "glass: looking glass, mirror." Often in the Sonnets, a phrase or clause needs explanation. Then, if space allows, we rephrase in our own words the difficult passage, and add at the end synonyms for individual words in the passage. When scholars have been unable to determine the meaning of a word or phrase, we acknowledge the uncertainty. Biblical quotations are from the Geneva Bible (1560), modernized.
In the centuries since the publication of Shakespeare's Sonnets, many editors have worked at understanding and explaining the very condensed language of these poems. When we find the work of a particular editor especially helpful to the reader, we occasionally refer to that editor's notes. The following are editions that provide especially useful commentary:
Booth, Stephen, ed. Shakespeare's Sonnets (New Haven, 1977)
Duncan-Jones, Katherine, ed. Shakespeare's Sonnets (The Arden Shakespeare, 1997)
Evans, G. Blakemore, ed. The Sonnets (The New Cambridge Shakespeare, 1996)
Ingram, W. G., and Theodore Redpath, eds. Shakespeare's Sonnets (London, 1964, 1967)
Kerrigan, John, ed. The Sonnets and A Lover's Complaint (The New Penguin Shakespeare, 1986)
Orgel, Stephen, ed. The Sonnets (The Pelican Shakespeare, 2001)
Vendler, Helen, ed. The Art of Shakespeare's Sonnets (Cambridge, Mass., 1997)
When an edition is mentioned in conjunction with a particular poem, the editor's remarks will be found in his or her commentary on that poem.
Illustrations are from the Folger archives. See "Index of Illustrations" (pp. 677-84) for information on the books or manuscripts in which the engravings or prints are found.
Copyright © 2004, 2006 by The Folger Shakespeare Library
From fairest creatures we desire increase,
That thereby beauty's rose might never die,
But, as the riper should by time decease,
His tender heir might bear his memory.
But thou, contracted to thine own bright eyes,
Feed'st thy light's flame with self-substantial fuel,
Making a famine where abundance lies,
Thyself thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel.
Thou that art now the world's fresh ornament
And only herald to the gaudy spring
Within thine own bud buriest thy content
And, tender churl, mak'st waste in niggarding.
Pity the world, or else this glutton be --
To eat the world's due, by the grave and thee.
In this first of many sonnets about the briefness of human life, the poet reminds the young man that time and death will destroy even the fairest of living things. Only if they reproduce themselves will their beauty survive. The young man's refusal to beget a child is therefore self-destructive and wasteful.
1. increase: reproduction, propagation
4. tender: i.e., young; bear his memory: i.e., carry its (or his) image as a living memorial
5. contracted: bound by contract, betrothed (but also with the sense of "limited, shrunken")
6. Feed'st . . . fuel: See longer note, p. 332. self-substantial: derived from one's own substance
10. only: peerless, preeminent; herald: forerunner, precursor; gaudy: brilliantly fine
11. thy content: (1) that which is contained within you -- specifically, your seed, that with which you should produce a child; (2) your happiness
12. churl: miser (with wordplay on "lowbred fellow" or "villain"); mak'st waste in niggarding: i.e., diminishes or impoverishes through miserliness
13-14. this glutton . . . thee: i.e., be the kind of glutton who devours the world's due (the children one owes the world), first by refusing to reproduce and then by dying (See Erasmus's "Epistle" [B], in Appendix, p. 620.)
Copyright © 2004, 2006 by The Folger Shakespeare Library
When forty winters shall besiege thy brow
And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field,
Thy youth's proud livery, so gazed on now,
Will be a tattered weed of small worth held.
Then being asked where all thy beauty lies,
Where all the treasure of thy lusty days,
To say within thine own deep-sunken eyes
Were an all-eating shame and thriftless praise.
How much more praise deserved thy beauty's use
If thou couldst answer "This fair child of mine
Shall sum my count and make my old excuse,"
Proving his beauty by succession thine.
This were to be new made when thou art old
And see thy blood warm when thou feel'st it cold.
The poet challenges the young man to imagine two different futures, one in which he dies childless, the other in which he leaves behind a son. In the first, the young man will waste the uninvested treasure of his youthful beauty. In the other, though still himself subject to the ravages of time, his child's beauty will witness the father's wise investment of this treasure.
2. field: i.e., the brow (imaged as a battlefield, besieged by Time, which digs deep trenches)
3. proud: magnificent, splendid; livery: distinctive clothing, military uniform
4. weed: garment (with possible wordplay on a weed in a field)
6. lusty: strong, vigorous (with possible wordplay on lustful)
7. deep-sunken: i.e., aged (literally, hollow, fallen in)
8. all-eating shame: (1) shame at having consumed everything; (2) shame that consumes you entirely; thriftless praise: (1) praise for having lived wastefully; (2) worthless praise
9. use: the act of holding land or other property so as to derive revenue or profit from it (but also with the sense of "employment for sexual purposes")
11. sum my count: i.e., provide a statement of reckoning for what I've received and spent; make my old excuse: i.e., justify me in my old age
12. by succession thine: i.e., inherited from you by legal right
Copyright © 2004, 2006 by The Folger Shakespeare Library
Look in thy glass and tell the face thou viewest
Now is the time that face should form another,
Whose fresh repair if now thou not renewest,
Thou dost beguile the world, unbless some mother.
For where is she so fair whose uneared womb
Disdains the tillage of thy husbandry?
Or who is he so fond will be the tomb
Of his self-love, to stop posterity?
Thou art thy mother's glass, and she in thee
Calls back the lovely April of her prime;
So thou through windows of thine age shalt see,
Despite of wrinkles, this thy golden time.
But if thou live remembered not to be,
Die single, and thine image dies with thee.
The poet urges the young man to reflect on his own image in a mirror. Just as the young man's mother sees her own youthful self reflected in the face of her son, so someday the young man should be able to look at his son's face and see reflected his own youth. If the young man decides to die childless, all these faces and images die with him.
1. glass: looking glass, mirror
3. fresh repair: youthful condition
4. beguile: disappoint, cheat; unbless some mother: i.e., deprive someone of the blessings of motherhood
5. fair: beautiful; uneared: unplowed (The familiar metaphor that images copulation in agricultural terms continues in l. 6 with tillage and with wordplay on husband in husbandry.) See Erasmus's "Epistle" [D], in Appendix, p. 622.
7. fond: foolish
7-8. be . . . posterity: i.e., out of his narcissism bury the generations that should succeed him (See Erasmus's "Epistle" [A], in Appendix, p. 615.)
11. windows . . . age: i.e., your eyes when you are old
Copyright © 2004, 2006 by The Folger Shakespeare Library
Excerpted from Shakespeare's Sonnets and Poems by William Shakespeare Copyright © 1988 by William Shakespeare. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Meet the Author
Stephen Booth is at the University of California, Berkeley.
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
See all customer reviews
I thought i loved william now but after his sonnets...im speechless
Tongue tied when it comes to telling someone how much you care? Send this audio book to that special person. You'll not only be thought romantic but erudite as well. After all, even at your best you probably couldn't come up with 'Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date.' These love poems have been extolled for over 400 years, quoted, misquoted, and copied. Written between 1593 - 1601, to a great degree the 154 sonnets reveal the Bard's thoughts on the perplexities of life - love, honor, rebirth. Perhaps most important to many we also find his attraction to the 'Dark Lady.' Is there a reference in Sonnet 151 with 'Love is too young to know what conscience is....'? All the world loves a mystery which may be why we're so fascinated by the Dark Lady. Her identity is unknown, it is not even known whether she was a real woman with whom Shakespeare had a relationship or a manifestation of his creativity. Some surmise that she was so called because her hair was black and her skin dusk colored, thus she was Spanish. Others posit that 'dark' did not refer to her appearance but rather to the black or dark feelings of desire. This discussion may go on indefinitely. Unfortunately, British actor Simon Callow's brilliant reading of the sonnets only lasts two hours. However, the replay button is at the ready. 'Shakespeare's Sonnets' is a keeper to be enjoyed over and over again. - Gail Cooke
The sample is good imma get the book soon
This is wonderful read for the nook!
It's simply amazing and perfect to read when you desire something interesting, intruging, and plain beautiful. It's a must-have for all collections. And I'm only 16 years old!!!