Shakespeare's Sonnet 149

Shakespeare's Sonnet 149

Shakespeare is in real turmoil now as we reach the climax of his sonnets. I can't work out if the woman he is so in love with hates him or loves him back... I think it's the former. Sonnet 149 Canst thou, O cruel! say I love thee not, When I against myself with thee partake? Do I not think on thee, when I forgot Am of myself, all tyrant, for thy sake? Who hateth thee that I do call my friend? On whom frown’st thou that I do fawn upon? Nay, if thou lour’st on me, do I not spend Revenge upon myself with present moan? What merit do I in myself respect, That is so proud thy service to despise, When all my best doth worship thy defect, Commanded by the motion of thine eyes? But, love, hate on, for now I know thy mind; Those that can see thou lov’st, and I am blind.

Shakespeare's Sonnet 148

Shakespeare questions his vision in this one. and I compare it to "Shallow Hal". Sonnet 148 O me, what eyes hath love put in my head, Which have no correspondence with true sight! Or if they have, where is my judgment fled, That censures falsely what they see aright? If that be fair whereon my false eyes dote, What means the world to say it is not so? If it be not, then love doth well denote Love’s eye is not so true as all men’s “no.” How can it? O, how can love’s eye be true, That is so vexed with watching and with tears? No marvel then though I mistake my view; The sun itself sees not till heaven clears.  O cunning love, with tears thou keep’st me blind,  Lest eyes well-seeing thy foul faults should find.

Sonnet 147 ft. Elliot Ditton

I'm joined this week by the brilliant Actor, Writer & Drag Artist Elliot Ditton AKA Fruit 'n Fibre. We had a lot of fun diving into this bleak sonnet - stick around for Elliot's incredible re-write at the end! Sonnet 147 My love is as a fever, longing still For that which longer nurseth the disease, Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill, Th’ uncertain sickly appetite to please. My reason, the physician to my love, Angry that his prescriptions are not kept, Hath left me, and I desperate now approve Desire is death, which physic did except. Past cure I am, now reason is past care, And frantic-mad with evermore unrest; My thoughts and my discourse as madmen’s are, At random from the truth vainly expressed:     For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright,     Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.

Shakespeare's Sonnet 146 ft. Florence Roberts

I'm joined this week by the brilliant actress and writer Florence Roberts. You might have seen her recently at the RSC in the Forsyte Saga or on PBS in Miss Scarlet and the Duke. Florence is also a brilliant poet! [https://www.instagram.com/fl_oetry/?hl=en] Had a lot of fun deconstructing this bleak sonnet - hope you enjoy listening to it. Sonnet 146 Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth, [......] these rebel powers that thee array, Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth, Painting thy outward walls so costly gay? Why so large cost, having so short a lease, Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend? Shall worms, inheritors of this excess, Eat up thy charge? Is this thy body's end? Then soul, live thou upon thy servant's loss And let that pine to aggravate thy store; Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross; Within be fed, without be rich no more. So shalt thou feed on Death, that feeds on men, And, Death once dead, there's no more dying then.

Shakespeare's Sonnet 145

This is one of Shakespeare's weirder ones but I have to say it rolled off the tongue nicely! Sonnet 145 Those lips that Love’s own hand did make Breathed forth the sound that said “I hate” To me that languished for her sake; But when she saw my woeful state, Straight in her heart did mercy come, Chiding that tongue that ever sweet Was used in giving gentle doom, And taught it thus anew to greet: “I hate” she altered with an end That followed it as gentle day Doth follow night, who, like a fiend, From heaven to hell is flown away.    “I hate” from hate away she threw,    And saved my life, saying “not you.”