THE ARMISTEAD-SHAKESPEARE THEORY
(Rev. 125wp, March 20, 2008)
BRIEF:
The real identity of William Shakespeare (1564-1616) has been a mystery for about four centuries; therefore, this unfinished research paper discusses a few new possibilities, like:
1. Edward de Vere (1550-1604), the XVII Earl of Oxford;
2. Edmund Spencer "the poet" (1552-1599) worked for William Henry Herbert (1534-1601?) and his wife Mary Sidney, who were known as Lord and Lady Pembroke;
3. William Cecil (1520-1598), who may have had a cleft pallet, who was an adviser to Queen Elizabeth, and who was the guardian of Edward de Vere and Briget de Vere;
4. The Rev. Charles Fitz-Geoffrey (1567-1632), who published notes about Lady de Vere with quips as funny as Shakespeare and a sonnet about Sir Francis Drake;
5. Sir Francis Drake (1533-1596), whose nephew painted new species of plants, new harbors and new landscapes, and who always dined on the Queen's china with music from a private violin orchestra, while sailing around the world on the Golden Hind;
6. Dutch King William I, "the silent", Henry (1533-1584-1623) of Orange, who married thrice and had three or more sons, and may have survived two assassination attempts; and, was also known as the Marquis de Vere, a village in the Netherlands;
7. Prince Philip William Henry (1564-1616), who was the Dutch King's oldest son, who spent about 14 years in Spanish prisons, and who never became a king; and,
8. Sir John Hawkins (1532-1595), was a cousin of Sir Francis Drake, and who was the first navigator to measure longitude, accurately, on the Golden Hind trip around the world, which determined the width and the future potential of North America.
And, several of the above possibilities may be connected to the mysterious William Armistead, who sailed to Virginia in 1637 aboard a royal frigate, the Tristan and Jane, with Sir John Davis, Knight, and a small army of guards. The mysterious, fictitiously named ship, the Tristan and Jane, had more servants than passengers, is recorded as returning to England with a cargo of tobacco, and then seems to have disappeared from most historical records. (Ref. The Danish Fable, “Tristan and Jane”, about a young couple that fell in love.)
SHAKESPEARE’S SONNET ERRORS:
In the last several years, I have discovered many clues and typo-errors in Shakespeare's sonnets, which reflect Shakespeare's life story in poetic love letters, like a mystery. In the process, I have discovered several clues about the author's relationship with the "love of his life", the suspected identity of both, and Shakespeare’s speaking problems after about 1582.
Shakespeare's sonnets were originally fumbled by his printer, Thomas Thorpe, with numerous typo errors, or were intentionally altered, later, to hide the lady’s name in about 70% of his sonnets. And, the first 1609 edition seems to differ from the later editions of Shakespeare's Sonnets, which were altered or scrambled, years later.
Therefore, the following clues, datum and reasons may shine some new light on the existing Shakespeare Mystery, where several theories already exist. So, try to "Follow my Reasons" and my interpretations of Shakespeare's sonnets, sixty of which appear below. Over 600 errors are suspected in the following Shakespeare sonnets, some of which are obvious typesetting errors or dictation errors, and have been corrected as best as possible. But, even my corrections may not be 100% accurate, since they are only one researcher’s opinion, and remain unfinished.
Thorpe’s dedication note could have been written to Dutch King William I Henry, who had won the “Eighty Year War” with Spain in about 1596. But, King William I “the silent” Henry had been the target of paid assassins on two different occasions, in 1582 and in 1584, and had masked his identity, afterwards. In fact, all historians claim that he was assassinated in 1584.
Therefore:
….1. All historians believe that King William I "the silent" Henry of Orange was assassinated in 1584. But, I think he had more fun and freedom in London as "Sir Francis Drake", and married a younger, more beautiful woman in 1585 to taunt Queen Elizabeth I, who consistently refused to marry him.
….2. Plus, Jan Van Miereveld painted a portrait of William "the silent" in 1620, 35 years after history claims he was assassinated, which can be found in The World of Vermeer (Time-Life books, 1967, page 28). Art experts claim Jan Van Miereveld painted over 10,000 portraits, or about 1 per day for 30 years. But, does his portrait prove that King William I survived both assassination attempts and was still alive in 1620 and died in about 1623?
….3. And, William "the wise" Henry of Hesse-Kassel, his cousin, may have decided to retire to Virginia to escape Spanish assassins, too. Or, he may have died at sea as Sir John Hawkins “the pirate” in 1595. (See: the “Two Gentlemen of Verona” for more clues in Shakespeare’s plays.)
SHAKESPEARE'S RIDDLES:
All typesetting was done by hand in 1609 and errors were common. (Example: The Bible.) Therefore, the keys for correcting any of Shakespeare's sonnets are rhythm and rhyme, and lisping speech. So, try correcting any one of his sonnets that you can't read and understand, since many are like badly solved cross-word puzzles, where one wrong letter in a word can mislead and confuse any typesetter, who doesn't think, logically or poetically.
Most sonnets can be clarified by usage of the word, "its", which should replace "his" in most sonnets and should reduce all previous theories about Shakespeare being homosexual or bisexual. (See any Oxford Dictionary about the usage of "his" and "its" after 1600.)
SONNET DEDICATION CLUES
Therefore, the best place to begin this Shakespeare Sonnet discussion may be with the dedication note in Shakespeare's book of sonnets, which was printed in 1609 (about 6 years after the death of Queen Elizabeth). The sonnets were printed after the departure of a flotilla of ships in 1609 to Jamestown, Virginia. The flagship was called “The Sea Venture”, and contained the most important leaders and, perhaps, some royal family members from the House of Orange and Hesse-Kassel of Europe. (Ref. Google.com)
The following dedication note to William Shakespeare appeared in Shakespeare's first book of sonnets, and was written by the publisher, Thomas Thorpe, who was a trusted friend and had a spelling and grammar problem.
"To the onlie (only) begetter of these insuing (ensuing) sonnets, Mr. W. H., all happinesse and that eternitie (eternity) promised by our ever-living poet wisheth (I wish to) the well-wishing adventurer in setting forth. T. T.".
"Ever-living" is a compliment to the age of a "Mr. W. H." (who was about 76); plus, this dedication note indicates that Thomas Thorpe knew about Shakespeare's next adventure to Virginia on the ship, "The Sea Venture". (Ref: Use a Google search.)
More details about other guesses to the identity of the mysterious “Mr. W. H.” can be found in any good addition of the “Complete Works of William Shakespeare”. However, I’m beginning to believe that less than half of “Shakespeare’s” artistic achievements have been attributed to the right person, who seems to be responsible for many works of Art, too.
SONNET 1 ERRORS and CLUES
Shakespeare's Sonnet 1 is difficult to understand, may miss one rhyme (die), and has no continuity. Therefore, my interpretation, "The Reclusive Beauty", compensates for phonetic dictation and typo-errors, and assumes that this sonnet was written to Queen Elizabeth I, who was a virgin at that time, or to a sister, Elizabeth, of William "the silent". My suggested corrections to suspected printing errors are in red print and bold italics in HTML. If reading this in a plain text format, underline or highlight my changes to help determine their probability of being accurate.
Sonnet 1
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,
Thy self 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.
Pithy the world, or else this glutton be,
To eat the world's due, by the grave and thee.
By: William Shakespeare
Sonnet 1 The Reclusive Beauty (20 errors?)
Some fairest creatures we sire to increase,
That nearby beauty's rose might never see;
So, as they ripen, should by time decease,
Their tender heir might bear their memory.
Bess, thou, contracted to thine own bright eyes,
Feed'st thy life's flame with self-sustaining fuel,
Making a famine where abundance lies,
Thyself thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel.
Bess, thou 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:
Pithy the world, or else disgruntled be,
To meet the world's few, by thy gravity.
Poetic Interpretation by: James H. Armistead
Copyright ©2005 by James H. Armistead
Sonnet 001 notes:
Line 1: The word "Some" fits better than "From", if discussing reproduction or breeding. The word "sire" fits the lecture better than "desire" and "to" corrects the grammar.
Line 2: The word "be" rhymes better with line 4, like Sonnet 9, where "die" rhymes with "sky" or like Sonnet 11, where "die" rhymes with "thereby". So, those English experts who claim that “die” should be pronounced like “dee”, are very mistaken.
Line 3: "Bess" may have been used in the original sonnet instead of “But”, since most of His sonnets were written to a specific female person. The word, "riper", is a typo-error and should be "ripen" and "the" should be corrected with "they".
Line 4: The word, "his" or "its", refers to the word "sire" in line 1.
Line 6: Both of the spelling or typesetting errors should be obvious to most people.
Line 9: “Bess” makes a better personal sentence, and “thou” was misplaced.
Line 10: The verb "could" or "might" could replace the word "and", optionally.
Line 13: "Disgruntled" sounds like "this glutton", and fits the logic of this sonnet, better.
Line 14: "To meet the world's few, with thy gravity" fits better and completes the lecture to Elizabeth "the churl" or a very unhappy, reclusive beauty. (See: Sonnet 20.)
SONNET 2 ERRORS AND CLUES
Sonnet 2 was written to a lady, and not to a fair-haired boy, as many experts have claimed. The word "youth" refers to age in this sonnet, and "livery" may mean a health allowance or should be spelled as "liberty", if it was a dictation error.
Sonnet 2.
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 totter'd 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 deserv'd 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
By: William Shakespeare
Sonnet 2 The Propagation of Beauty (14 errors?)
Bess, when forty winters besiege thy brow
And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's eld, (age)
Thy youth's proud liberty, so gazed on now,
Will be a tatter'd tweed of small worth held.
Then, being asked, where all thy beauty lies,
Where art the treasures of thy lusty days;
To say, 'Within thine own deep sunken eyes',
With an all-eating shame and shiftless gaze.
How much more praise deserv'd thy beauty's use,
If thou couldst answer; 'This fair child of mine
Shall sum my count, and make my own excuse';
Proving its beauty by succession thine!
Bess, we're to be new made, when thou art old,
And see thy blood warm, when thou feel'st it cold.
Poetic Interpretation by: James H. Armistead
Copyright ©2005 by James H. Armistead
Sonnet 2 notes:
Line 2: "eld" is the first German-French spelling clue and rhymes with “held”.
Line 3: The word "liberty" appears to be more accurate than the word "livery".
Line 6: The verb "art" is more correct than "all", since a verb seems to be missing,
and the word, "treasure", should be plural.
Line 7: The quote punctuation was added.
Line 8: "With" is more logical and "shiftless gaze" makes more sense than "thriftless phase".
Line 11: The word "own" works better than "old" in this sentence.
Line 12: "Its" is the neutral gender of a child.
Line 13: "Thus" and "we're" makes this last sentence logical. “Bess” also fits.
SONNET 3 ERRORS AND CLUES
How could any Shakespeare expert think that a "fair haired boy" had an "uneared" womb? Here, again, Shakespeare is writing letters of advice to the Virgin Queen and his scribe made a hearing or spelling error. It is also possible that Shakespeare "the poet" could not write, like John Shakespeare, the mayor of Stratford-on-Avon, and the father of a "William Shakespeare".
Sonnet 3
Look in thy glass and tell the face thou view est
Now is the time that face should form another;
Whose fresh repair if now thou not renew est,
Thou dost beguile the world, unbless some mother.
For where is she so fair whose unear'd 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, remember'd not to be,
Die single and thine image dies with thee.
By: William Shakespeare
Sonnet 3 Perfection Wasted (10 errors?)
Look in thy glass, and tell the face thou view’st
Now is the time that face should form another;
Whose fresh repair, if now thou not renew’st,
Thou dost beguile the world, unbless some other.
For where is she so fair who’s unsear'd womb
Disdains the tillage of thy husbandry?
Or, who is he so fond to 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;
Bess, thou through windows of thine age shalt see,
Despite of wrinkles, this, thy golden time.
Bess, as thou live, remember this from me;
Die single, and thine image dies with thee.
Poetic Interpretation by: James H. Armistead
Copyright © 2005 by James H. Armistead
Sonnet 3 notes:
Line 4: "Mother" is obviously wrong, to anyone who can think, logically.
Line 5: "unseared" is logically more correct than "uneared", which is a typesetting error.
"Unscarred" would be the best replacement for modern spelling.
Line 7: The word "to" fits the sentence better than the word "will".
Line 11: “Bess” fits the very personal sentence best.
Line 13: "Bess", again, makes this sonnet very private. The original line is not logical,
unless "not" is replaced with "but"; therefore, the phrase, "remember this from me", seems
to fit the theme of this sonnet best. “As” is needed to complete the thought.
SONNET 4 ERRORS AND CLUES
"Traffic" is a key word, which used to indicate "pleasure”, before Freeways were invented. Here, again, Shakespeare is writing a beautiful sonnet to someone that is "hard to get".
Sonnet 4.
Unthrifty loveliness, why dost thou spend
Upon thy self thy beauty's legacy?
Nature's bequest gives nothing, but doth lend,
And being frank she lends to those are free:
Then, beauteous niggard, why dost thou abuse
The bounteous largess given thee to give?
Profitless usurer, why dost thou use
So great a sum of sums, yet canst not live?
For having traffic with thy self alone,
Thou of thy self thy sweet self dost deceive:
Then how when nature calls thee to be gone,
What acceptable audit canst thou leave?
Thy unused beauty must be tombed with thee,
Which, used, lives th' executor to be.
By: William Shakespeare
Sonnet 4 Selfish Beauty (8 errors?)
Unthrifty loveliness, why dost thou spend
Upon thyself thy beauty's legacy?
Nature's bequest gives nothing, but doth lend,
And, being frank, she lends to those art free:
Then, beauteous niggard, why dost thou abuse
The bounteous largess given thee to give?
Profitless usurer, why dost thou use
So great a sum of sums, yet canst not live?
Bess, having pleasure with thy self, alone,
Thou of thyself, thy sweet self, dost deceive:
Bess, how, when nature calls thee to be gone,
What acceptable audit can’st thou leave?
Thy unused beauty must be tomb'd with thee,
Which, if used, lives th' executor to be.
Poetic Interpretation by: James H. Armistead
Copyright ©2005 by James H. Armistead
Sonnet 4 notes:
Line 4: "art free" or "are free"? Either works, but Shakespeare used "art" more.
Line 9: “Bess" makes this real. “Pleasure" is the best modern word for the old word "traffic" in some dictionaries, since “traffic” implies that she might have been very busy, sexually.
Line 11: "Bess" is, again, assumed.
Line 12: Canst or can’st, whichever is historically correct.
Line 13: "tombed should be spelled "tomb'd", if consistent with other pronunciation clues.
Line 14: "If" is needed for rhythm, unless "used" is read as two syllables.
SONNET 5 ERRORS AND CLUES
This sonnet is another lecture to the same person, which compares reproduction
to the Summer and Winter of Life.
Sonnet 5
Those hours, that with gentle work did frame
The lovely gaze where every eye doth dwell,
Will play the tyrants to the very same
And that unfair which fairly doth excel;
For never-resting tim leads summer on
To hideous winter, and confounds him there;
Sap check’d with frost and lusty leaves quite gone,
Beauty o’ersnow’d and bareness everywhere:
Then, were not summer's distillation left,
A liquid prisoner pent in walls of glass,
Beauty's effect with beauty were bereft,
Nor it, nor no remembrance what it was:
But flowers distill'd, though they with winter meet,
Leese but their show; their substance still lives sweet.
By: William Shakespeare
Sonnet 5 The Seeds of Life (15 errors?)
Those hours, that with gentle art did frame
The lovely phase, where every eye doth dwell,
Will play the tyrants to the very same,
And that's unfair, which fairly doth excel.
For never-resting Time leads Summer on
To hideous Winter, and confounds it there;
Sap checked with frost, and lusty leaves quite gone,
Beauty o'er-snowed, and bareness every where.
Bess, we're what Summer's distillation left,
A liquid prisoner, pent in walls of glass,
Beauty's effect, if beauty were bereft,
For it bares no resemblance what it pass.
Bess, flowers distill'd, though they with Winter meet,
Lose but their show; their substance still lives sweet.
Poetic Interpretation by: James H. Armistead
Copyright ©2005 by James H. Armistead
Sonnet 5 notes:
Line 1: "Art" is a poet's word.
Line 2: "Phase" makes more sense than "gaze", to me.
Line 4: "That" should be "that's", which should be obvious to any Shakespeare scholar.
Line 5: Does Shakespeare capitalize "time" in other places? (See: Sonnet 116)
Line 9: Any arguments about this philosophical, typo or hearing error solution?
Line 11: "Bereft" means bottled. So, "if" explains the sonnet best for me.
Line 12: "For it bares no resemblance" unscrambles the riddle or several typo-errors.
“Was” doesn’t rhyme with “glass”; so, “pass” may work best for me.
Line 13: "Bess" works best, but may add one too many syllables.
Line 14: "Lose" works better than "leese" for current English.
SONNET 6 ERRORS AND CLUES
"Clone" is the key rhyme that is missing, which may have been a typo-error.
Plus, starting a sonnet with the word, "Then", is not very logical to any Queen!
Sonnet 6
Then let not winter's ragged hand deface,
In thee thy summer, ere thou be distilled:
Make sweet some vial; treasure thou some place
With beauty's treasure ere it be self-killed.
That use is not forbidden usury
Which happies those that pay the willing loan;
That's for thy self to breed another thee,
Or ten times happier, be it ten for one;
Ten times thy self were happier than thou art,
If ten of thine ten times refigured thee:
Then what could death do if thou shouldst depart,
Leaving thee living in posterity?
Be not self-willed, for thou art much too fair
To be death's conquest and make worms thine heir.
By William Shakespeare
Sonnet 6 Eternal Beauty (8 errors?)
Bess, let not winter's ragged hand deface,
In thee, thy summer, where thou be distill'd:
Make sweeter some vial; treasure thou some place
With beauty's treasure, 'fore it be self-killed.
That use is not forbidden usury,
Which happies those that pay the willing loan;
That's for thyself to breed another thee,
Ten times happier, be it ten thee clone;
Ten times thyself, happier than thou art,
If ten of thine, ten times, refigur'd thee.
Bess, what could death do, if thou shouldst depart,
Leaving thee living in prosperity?
Be not self-willed, for thou art much too fair
To be death's conquest, and make worms thine heir.
Poetic Interpretation by: James H. Armistead
Copyright ©2005 by James H. Armistead
Sonnet 6 notes:
Line 1: "Bess" makes more logic than "Then". The comma was in the wrong place.
Line 2: "Where" is more modern.
Line 3: "Sweeter" corrects the syllable count to ten.
Line 4: "Before" if shortened, should be "fore".
Line 8: It had too many syllables; plus the word "one" did not rhyme with "loan"
in Line 6. The word "own" is another possible correction for the word "one".
Line 9: It had too many syllables, so the word "were" was removed.
Line 10: The word “refigured” should be typeset as “refigur’d” for consistency.
Line 11: "Bess" makes this a very private sonnet, also.
SONNET 7 ERRORS AND CLUES
The Sun rises in the East or in the Orient for many poets. Plus, "Umber" and not "under"
is the color of a rising Sun. "His" is old English-German for neutral things, and does not
indicate that the author of this sonnet is a bisexual male.
Sonnet 7
Lo! in the orient when the gracious light
Lifts up his burning head, each under eye
Doth homage to his new-appearing sight,
Serving with looks his sacred majesty;
And having climbed the steep-up heavenly hill,
Resembling strong youth in his middle age,
Yet mortal looks adore his beauty still,
Attending on his golden pilgrimage:
But when from high most pitch, with weary car,
Like feeble age, he reeleth from the day,
The eyes, 'fore duteous, now converted are
From his low tract, and look another way:
So thou, thyself outgoing in thy noon
Unlooked on diest unless thou get a son. .
By William Shakespeare
Sonnet 7 Like the Waning Sun (25 errors?)
Bess, in the orient, when gracious light
Lifts up its burning head, each umber eye
Doth homage to its new-appearing sight,
Serving with looks its sacred majesty.
And, having climbed the steps up heaven's hill,
Resembling strong youth in its middle age;
Yet, mortal looks adore its beauty still,
Ascending on its golden pilgrimage.
But, when from high-most pitch, this weary czar,
Like feeble age, it reeleth from the day,
Its eyes, fortuitous, now converted are
From its low tract, and looks another way.
So, thou, thyself, outgoing in thy noon, (age 32?)
Looks on from thee, unless thou get thee soon.
Poetic Interpretation by: James H. Armistead
Copyright © James H. Armistead 2005
Sonnet 007 notes:
Line 1: had one too many syllables.
Line 2: 'his" should be changed to "its" on all lines. "Umber" or amber is the Sun's color.
Line 3: “his = its” on Line 4, Line 6, Line 7, Line 8, Line 11, and Line 12, too.
Line 5: "Steps" are more logical when climbing up any hill!
Line 8: "Ascending" is more correct, logically.
Line 9: "this weary czar" is much more logical, unless you're driving an old car!
Line 11: "Fortuitous", not "'fore duteous"! This is a best clue for many dictation errors.
Line 14: "Son" fails to rhyme with "noon". And, "looks on from thee" is better grammar
since both were about 32. "Unlooks on thyest" might have been intended, also.
SONNET 8 ERRORS AND CLUES
Sonnet 8
Music to hear, why hear'st thou music sadly?
Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy:
Why lov'st thou that which thou receiv'st not gladly,
Or else receiv'st with pleasure thine annoy?
If the true concord of well-tuned sounds,
By unions married, do offend thine ear,
They do but sweetly chide thee, who confounds
In singleness the parts that thou shouldst bear.
Mark how one string, sweet husband to another,
Strikes each in each by mutual ordering;
Resembling sire and child and happy mother,
Who, all in one, one pleasing note do sing:
Whose speechless song being many, seeming one,
Sings this to thee: 'Thou single wilt prove none.'
By William Shakespeare
Sonnet 8 Love is Like Music (6 errors?)
Bess, my dear, why hear’st thou music sadly?
Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy:
Why lov’st thou that which thou receiv’st not gladly,
Or else receiv’st with pleasure, then annoy?
If the true concord of well-tuned sounds,
By unions married, do offend thine ear,
They do but sweetly chide thee, who confounds,
In singleness, the parts that thou shouldst hear.
Mark how one string, sweet husband to another,
Strikes each in reach by mutual ordering;
Resembling sire and child and happy mother,
Who, all in one, one pleasing note do sing:
Whose speechless song, being many, seeming one,
Sings this to thee: ‘Thou single wilt prove none’.
Poetic Interpretation by: James H. Armistead
Copyright © James H. Armistead 2007
SONNET 9 ERRORS AND CLUES
Sonnet 9
Is it for fear to wet a widow's eye,
That thou consum'st thy self in single life?
Ah! if thou issueless shalt hap to die,
The world will wail thee like a makeless wife;
The world will be thy widow and still weep
That thou no form of thee hast left behind,
When every private widow well may keep
By children's eyes, her husband's shape in mind:
Look what an unthrift in the world doth spend
Shifts but his place, for still the world enjoys it;
But beauty's waste hath in the world an end,
And kept unused the user so destroys it.
No love toward others in that bosom sits
That on himself such murd'rous shame commits.
By William Shakespeare
Sonnet 9 Beauty’s Waste (16 errors?)
Is it for fear to wet a widow’s eye,
That thou consum’st thyself in single life?
Bess, if thou issueless shalt hap to die,
The world will wail thee, like a mateless wife.
The world will be thy widow and still weep,
That thou no form of thee, hast left behind,
When every private widow may well keep,
By children’s eyes, her husband’s shape in mind.
Look what a spinster in this world doth spend,
Spiffs but her face, although the world enjoys it.
Bess, beauty’s waste hath in this world an end,
And kept unused, the user so destroys it.
No love for others in that bosom sits;
So, on thyself, such murd’rous shame commits.
Poetic Interpretation by: James H. Armistead
Copyright © James H. Armistead 2007
SONNET 10 ERRORS AND CLUES
Sonnet 10
For shame deny that thou bear'st love to any,
Who for thy self art so unprovident.
Grant, if thou wilt, thou art beloved of many,
But that thou none lov'st is most evident:
For thou art so possessed with murderous hate,
That 'gainst thy self thou stick'st not to conspire,
Seeking that beauteous roof to ruinate
Which to repair should be thy chief desire.
O! change thy thought, that I may change my mind:
Shall hate be fairer lodged than gentle love?
Be, as thy presence is, gracious and kind,
Or to thyself at least kind-hearted prove:
Make thee another self for love of me,
That beauty still may live in thine or thee.
By William Shakespeare
Sonnet 10 Beauty’s Ruin (15 errors?)
Bess, deny that thou bear’st love for any,
Who, for thyself, art so improvident.
Grant, if thou wilt, thou art beloved by many;
But, that thou lov’st none, is most evident.
Bess, thou art possessed with murderous hate,
That against thyself, thou strives to conspire,
Seeking thy beauty’s root, to ruinate,
Which to repair should be thy chief desire.
Bess, change thy thought, that I may change thy mind:
Shall hate be fairer lodged than gentle love?
Be, as thy presence is, gracious and kind,
Or, to thyself, at least, cold-hearted dove,
Make thee another self, for love of me,
That beauty still may live, in thine or thee.
Poetic Interpretation by: James H. Armistead
Copyright © James H. Armistead 2007
SONNET 11 ERRORS AND CLUES
Sonnet 11
As fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou grow'st
In one of thine, from that which thou departest;
And that fresh blood which youngly thou bestow'st,
Thou mayst call thine when thou from youth convertest.
Herein lives wisdom, beauty, and increase;
Without this folly, age, and cold decay:
If all were minded so, the times should cease
And threescore year would make the world away.
Let those whom nature hath not made for store,
Harsh, featureless, and rude, barrenly perish:
Look whom she best endow'd, she gave the more;
Which bounteous gift thou shouldst in bounty cherish:
She carv'd thee for her seal, and meant thereby,
Thou shouldst print more, not let that copy die.
By William Shakespeare
Sonnet 11 Beauty’s End (11 errors?)
As fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou grow’st
In one of thine, from that which thou departest;
And that fresh blood which fondly thou bestow’st,
Thou mayst call thine, when thou from youth convertest.
Herein lives wisdom; beauty would increase,
Without this folly, age, and cold decay:
If all were minded so, good times would cease,
And three score year would take this world away.
Let those whom Nature hath but made for war,
Harsh, fearless, and rude, barrenly perish.
Bess, whom she best endow’d, she gave the more;
Which bounteous gift thou shouldst more cherish:
She carv’d thee for her seal, and meant thereby,
Thou shouldst print more, not let that copy die.
Poetic Interpretation by: James H. Armistead
Copyright © James H. Armistead 2007
SONNET 12 ERRORS AND CLUES
Sonnet 12
When I do count the clock that tells the time,
And see the brave day sunk in hideous night;
When I behold the violet past prime,
And sable curls, all silvered o'er with white;
When lofty trees I see barren of leaves,
Which erst from heat did canopy the herd,
And summer's green all girded up in sheaves,
Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard,
Then of thy beauty do I question make,
That thou among the wastes of time must go,
Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake
And die as fast as they see others grow;
And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make defence
Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence.
By William Shakespeare
Sonnet 12 The Seeds of Life (10 errors?)
When I do count the clock that tells the time,
And see the brave day sunk in hideous night;
When I behold the violet, past prime,
And sable curls, all silvered o’er with white;
When lofty trees I see, barren of leaves,
Which first from heat did canopy the herd,
And summer’s green all girded up in sheaves,
Borne on the bier, my white and ghastly burd; (wife)
Then, of thy beauty, do I question make,
That thou among the wastes of time must go,
Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake,
And die as fast as they see others grow.
Bess, nothing ‘gainst Time’s scythe can take defense,
Save seeds, to brave him when he takes thee hence.
Poetic Interpretation by: James H. Armistead
Copyright © James H. Armistead 2007
SONNET 13 ERRORS AND CLUES
This sonnet implies that Queen Elizabeth had a secret son on the last line.
Sonnet 13
O! that you were your self; but, love, you are
No longer yours, than you your self here live:
Against this coming end you should prepare,
And your sweet semblance to some other give:
So should that beauty which you hold in lease
Find no determination; then you were
Yourself again, after yourself's decease,
When your sweet issue your sweet form should bear.
Who lets so fair a house fall to decay,
Which husbandry in honour might uphold,
Against the stormy gusts of winter's day
And barren rage of death's eternal cold?
O! none but unthrifts. Dear my love, you know,
You had a father: let your son say so.
By William Shakespeare
Sonnet 13 Perpetual Beauty (13 errors?)
Bess, that you are yourself; but love, you fair
No longer years, than you, yourself, shall live.
Against this coming end you should prepare,
And your sweet semblance to some other give.
Bess, should that beauty which you hold in lease
Find no deterioration; then, you share
Yourself again, after your self’s decease,
With your sweet issue, your sweet form should bare.
Who lets so fair a house fall to decay,
Whose husbandry in honor might uphold,
Against the stormy gusts of winter’s day,
And barren rage of death’s eternal cold?
Bess, none but spinsters. Dear my love, you know,
You had a father: let your son say so.
Poetic Interpretation by: James H. Armistead
Copyright © James H. Armistead 2007
SONNET 14 ERRORS AND CLUES
Sonnet 14
Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck;
And yet methinks I have Astronomy,
But not to tell of good or evil luck,
Of plagues, of dearths, or seasons' quality;
Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell,
Pointing to each his thunder, rain and wind,
Or say with princes if it shall go well
By oft predict that I in heaven find:
But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive,
And, constant stars, in them I read such art
As truth and beauty shall together thrive,
If from thyself, to store thou wouldst convert;
Or else of thee this I prognosticate:
Thy end is truth's and beauty's doom and date.
By William Shakespeare
Sonnet 14 Love’s Depth (13 errors?)
Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck.
And, yet methinks, I know Astronomy;
But, not to tell of good or evil luck,
Or plagues, or deaths or seasons’ quality.
Nor can I forecast to brief minutes tell,
Pointing to each, his thunder, rain and wind,
Or say to princes, if it shall go well;
But, oft predict, that I ‘m in heaven, friend.
Bess, from thine eyes my knowledge I derive,
And, constant stars, in them I read such art,
As truth and beauty shall together thrive,
If from thyself, to store, shouldst thou depart.
Bess, else of thee, this I prognosticate:
Thy end is truth’s and beauty’s doom and date.
Poetic Interpretation by: James H. Armistead
Copyright © James H. Armistead 2007
SONNET 15 ERRORS AND CLUES
Sonnet 15
When I consider every thing that grows
Holds in perfection but a little moment,
That this huge stage presenteth nought but shows
Whereon the stars in secret influence comment;
When I perceive that men as plants increase,
Cheered and checked even by the self-same sky,
Vaunt in their youthful sap, at height decrease,
And wear their brave state out of memory;
Then the conceit of this inconstant stay
Sets you most rich in youth before my sight,
Where wasteful Time debateth with decay
To change your day of youth to sullied night,
And all in war with Time for love of you,
As he takes from you, I engraft you new.
By William Shakespeare
Sonnet 15 The Peak of Perfection (13 errors?)
When I consider every thing that grows,
Holds its perfection but a brief moment.
Bess, this huge stage presenteth nought but shows,
Where the stars in secret influence movement.
When I perceive that men, as plants, increase,
Cheered and checked even by the self-same sea,
Vaunt in their youthful sap, as heights decrease,
And ware their brave state out of memory.
Then, the concept of this inconstant stay,
Sets you most rich in youth before my sight,
Where wasteful Time debateth with decay,
To change your day of youth to sullen night.
All are in war with Time for lovely you,
As he takes from you, I engraft you new.
Poetic Interpretation by: James H. Armistead
Copyright © James H. Armistead 2007
SONNET 16 ERRORS AND CLUES
Sonnet 16
But wherefore do not you a mightier way
Make war upon this bloody tyrant, Time?
And fortify your self in your decay
With means more blessed than my barren rhyme?
Now stand you on the top of happy hours,
And many maiden gardens, yet unset,
With virtuous wish would bear you living flowers,
Much liker than your painted counterfeit:
So should the lines of life that life repair,
Which this, Time's pencil, or my pupil pen,
Neither in inward worth nor outward fair,
Can make you live your self in eyes of men.
To give away yourself, keeps yourself still,
And you must live, drawn by your own sweet skill.
By: William Shakespeare
Sonnet 16 Plan Your Life (25 errors?)
Bess, why do not you in a mighty way,
Make more war upon this tyrant, Time?
And fortify yourself as you decay,
With means more blessed than my barren rhyme?
Now you stand on the top of happy hours,
With many maiden gardens, yet unset,
And virtuous wish to bear your flowers,
Much quicker than your painted counterfeit.
Bess, could the rhymes of life, that life compares,
Like this, Time’s pencil, or my pupil’s pen,
Neither in inward worth nor outward flares,
Make you, live yourself, with the lives of men?
To give yourself away, keeps yourself still;
But, you must live, drawn by your own sweet skill.
Poetic Interpretation by: James H. Armistead
Copyright © James H. Armistead 2007
SONNET 17 ERRORS AND CLUES
Sonnet 17
Who will believe my verse in time to come,
If it were fill'd with your most high deserts?
Though yet heaven knows it is but as a tomb
Which hides your life, and shows not half your parts.
If I could write the beauty of your eyes,
And in fresh numbers number all your graces,
The age to come would say 'This poet lies;
Such heavenly touches ne'er touch'd earthly faces.'
So should my papers, yellow'd with their age,
Be scorn'd, like old men of less truth than tongue,
And your true rights be term'd a poet's rage
And stretched metre of an antique song:
But were some child of yours alive that time,
You should live twice, in it, and in my rhyme.
By: William Shakespeare
Sonnet 17 Rhymes Like Mine (16 errors?)
Who will believe my verse in time to come,
If it were fill’d with your sweetest desert,
Though yet, heaven knows, it is but a crumb,
Which hides your life, and shows not half your wert.
If I could write the beauty of your eyes,
And in fresh numbers, count all your graces,
The age to come would say ‘This poet lies;
Such heavenly touch, ne’er touch’d earthly faces’.
Bess, should old papers, yellow’d with their age,
Be scorn’d, like old men of less truth, and wrong,
And your true sights be term’d a poet’s rage;
Or, the stretch’d metre of an antique song?
Bess, were some child of yours, alive, like mine,
You could live twice, in it, and in my rhyme.
Poetic Interpretation by: James H. Armistead
Copyright © James H. Armistead 2007
SONNET 18 ERRORS AND CLUES
Sonnet 18
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:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed,
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature's changing course untrimmed:
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st,
Nor shall death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st,
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
By: William Shakespeare
Sonnet 18 Like a Summer Day
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Whose winds do shake the darling buds of May,
As summer’s lease hath all too short a date:
Sometimes too hot, thou eye of heaven shines,
And often is thou gold complexion dimmed,
As every fair, from fair, sometimes declines,
By chance, or nature’s changing course, untrimmed.
Bess, thy eternal Summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st,
Nor shall death drag thou wondrousness in shade
When in eternal lines of time, thou grow’st.
Bess, long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, as this gives life to thee.
Poetic Interpretation by: James H. Armistead
Copyright © James H. Armistead 2007
SONNET 19 ERRORS AND CLUES
Sonnet 19
Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion's paws,
And make the earth devour her own sweet brood;
Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tiger's jaws,
And burn the long-liv'd phoenix, in her blood;
Make glad and sorry seasons as thou fleet'st,
And do whate'er thou wilt, swift-footed Time,
To the wide world and all her fading sweets;
But I forbid thee one most heinous crime:
O! carve not with thy hours my love's fair brow,
Nor draw no lines there with thine antique pen;
Him in thy course untainted do allow
For beauty's pattern to succeeding men.
Yet, do thy worst old Time: despite thy wrong,
My love shall in my verse ever live young.
By: William Shakespeare
Sonnet 19 Ageless Love (21 errors?)
Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion’s paws,
And make the earth devour her own sweet brood;
Pluck the teeth from the fiercest tiger’s jaws,
And burn the long-liv’d Phoenix, in her blood;
Make glad and sorry seasons, as thou fleeces,
And do whate’er thou wilt, swift-footed Time,
To this wide world and all her fading pieces;
But, I forbid thee, one most heinous crime.
O! scar not with thy hours, my love’s fair brow,
Nor draw more lines there with thine antique pen;
Hem in thy course, untainted, but allow
My beauty’s pattern to succeeding men!
Do thy worst, old Time, yet, despite thy wrong,
My love shall in my verse, live ever long.
Poetic Interpretation by: James H. Armistead
Copyright © James H. Armistead 2007
SONNET 20 ERRORS AND CLUES
"Thee" or "thou" won't believe the number of typo-translation errors in this sonnet. But, the following makes more sense to me than the original riddle. Hopefully, it is more accurate and understandable.
Sonnet 20
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 prick'd thee out for women's pleasure,
Mine be thy love and thy love's use their treasure!
By: William Shakespeare
Sonnet 20 Drake’s Mistress (31 errors?)
A woman's face, which 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;
And, eyes more bright than stars, less false if rolling,
Gelding the object whereupon they gazeth;
And, a man's hue; all used in its controlling,
Which steals men's eyes and women's souls, amazeth!
As for a woman's wert, thy first created;
Ill natured, as she fought thee, fell a-doting,
And by addiction of me, thou defeated,
By adding one thing to my purpose, noting.
Bess, since thou pick'd me out for woman's pleasure,
Mine be thy love, as thou loves lose their treasure!
Poetic Interpretation by: James H. Armistead
Copyright ©2005 by James H. Armistead
Sonnet 020 notes:
Line 1; "with" is not very logical.
Line 5: "An eye", "theirs" and "in" were not very logical.
Line 6: "Gelding" could mean "taxing" and "castrating"!
Line 7: Several typo-errors had changed the gender of his master-mistress.
The verb "used" was needed, and "its" should replace "his" for accuracy.
Line 8: "a woman's worth" may fit better than "a woman wert".
Line 9: "Ill natured" and "fought" fits better; plus, Nature doesn't dote!
Line 10: "addiction" is obvious; plus, "me of" is transposed.
Line 11: The word "noting" fits best, since you can't add "nothing" to a purpose.
Line 13: "Bess" fits; plus "pick'd" was incorrectly typeset; plus, "women's" was plural.
Line 14: The original line implies that she was a prostitute. (See sonnet 66.)
SONNET 21 ERRORS AND CLUES
Sonnet 21
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 first-born 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.
By: William Shakespeare
Sonnet 21 My Rondeaux Hymns (17 errors?)
Bess, 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 complement of proud compare,
With Sun and Moon, with Earth and Sea’s rich gems,
With April's first-born flowers, and all things rare,
Or heaven's air in these crude rondeaux hymns.
Bess, 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 hymns say more, unlike the hearsay well;
I will not praise thou purpose, nor will tell.
Poetic Interpretation by: James H. Armistead
Copyright © James H. Armistead 2007
SONNET 22 ERRORS AND CLUES
Old Sonnet 22
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
By: William Shakespeare
Sonnet 22 Ageless Images (11 errors?)
My glass shall not persuade me I am old,
So long as youth, and thou, are of one date.
Bess, when in thee time's furrows I behold
The look of 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 older than thou art?
Bess, therefore, love, be thyself, so wary
As I, not for myself, but for thee will;
Bearing thy heart, which I will keep so chary,
As tenders nurse their babes from faring ill.
Resume not on thy heart when mine is slain,
Thou gav'st me thine, not to give back again.
Poetic Interpretation by: James H. Armistead
Copyright © James H. Armistead 2007
SONNET 23 ERRORS AND CLUES
The key errors in this sonnet were "more" (or "bore") and "trust" (or "such").
The other corrections are preferred (by me), but could be questioned by poetry experts.
Sonnet 23
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'ercharg'd with burthen of mine own love's might:
O! let my looks 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 express'd.
O! learn to read what silent love hath writ:
To hear with eyes belongs to love's fine wit.
By: William Shakespeare
Sonnet 23 The Fear of Love (11 errors?)
Like an imperfect 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 such, forget to say
The perfect ceremony of love's rite,
And in mine own love's strength, seem to decay,
O'ercharg'd with burthen of mine own love's might.
Bess, let my books be then the eloquence
And dumb presagers of my speaking best,
Who plead for love, and look for recompense,
More than my tongue, that bore, hath more express'd.
Bess, learn to read what silent love emits:
To hear with eyes, belongs to love's fine wits.
Poetic Interpretation by: James H. Armistead
Copyright ©2005 James H. Armistead
Sonnet 023 notes:
Line 1: The word, "imperfect", should be changed to "imperfect" for better spelling.
"Like" has a clearer meaning for today's English.
Line 5: "Such" fits better than "trust" in this sonnet.
Line 7: A comma was missing.
Line 9: "Bess's" super-beauty is the problem.
Line 10: "best" fits better and still rhymes.
Line 12: "my" and "bore" fit the puzzle better.
Line 13: The word “ has writ” is incorrectly used (even in1576); so, “emits” works best.
"Bess", again fits this sonnet.
Line 14: “wits” rhymes with “emits” and tells a rare known truth about “in love”.
SONNET 24 ERRORS AND CLUES
Sonnet 24
Mine eye hath play'd the painter and hath steel'd,
Thy beauty's form in table of my heart;
My body is the frame wherein 'tis held,
And perspective it is best painter's art.
For through the painter must you see his skill,
To find where your true image pictur'd lies,
Which in my bosom's shop is hanging still,
That hath his windows glazed with thine eyes.
Now see what good turns eyes for eyes have done:
Mine eyes have drawn thy shape, and thine for me
Are windows to my breast, where-through the sun
Delights to peep, to gaze therein on thee;
Yet eyes this cunning want to grace their art,
They draw but what they see, know not the heart
By: William Shakespeare
Sonnet 24 Portraits on My Heart (13 errors?)
Mine eye hath play'd the painter and hath meld
Thy beauty's form, a portrait on my heart;
My body is the frame, wherein tis’ held,
And protecting it is best painter's art.
For through the painter, you must see his skill,
To find where your true image picture lies,
Which in my bosom's shop is hanging still,
That hath its windows glazed with thine eyes.
Now see what good-turns eyes for eyes have done:
Mine eyes have drawn thy shape, and thine for me
Are windows to thy breast; where-through the Sun
Delights to peep, to gaze, therein, on thee.
Bess, eyes this cunning want to grace their art;
Yet, draw but what they see, know not thy heart.
Poetic Interpretation by: James H. Armistead
Copyright © James H. Armistead 2007
SONNET 25 ERRORS AND CLUES
Sonnet 25
Let those who are in favour with their stars
Of public honour and proud titles boast,
Whilst I, whom fortune of such triumph bars
Unlook'd for joy in that I honour most.
Great princes' favourites their fair leaves spread
But as the marigold at the sun's eye,
And in themselves their pride lies buried,
For at a frown they in their glory die.
The painful warrior famoused for fight,
After a thousand victories once foiled,
Is from the book of honour razed 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.
By: William Shakespeare
Sonnet 25 Happy I, That Love (10 errors?)
Let those who are in favor with their stars
Of public honor and proud titles boast,
Whilst I, whose fortune of such triumph bars,
Unlooks for joy in what I honor most.
Great princes' favorites, their fair leaves spread,
Burn like a marigold in the sun's eye,
And in themselves, their pride lies buri-ed,
For with a frown, they in their glory, die.
The painful warrior, famous for his fight,
After a thousand victories, once foiled,
Is from the book of honor, razed, quite,
And all the rest forget for which he toiled.
Bess, happy I that love, and am beloved,
Where I may not remove, nor be removed.
Poetic Interpretation by: James H. Armistead
Copyright © James H. Armistead 2007
SONNET 26 ERRORS AND CLUES
Sonnet 26
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 tottered 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.
By: William Shakespeare
Sonnet 26 Your Vassal, My Love (19 errors?)
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, with wit so poor as mine,
Makes love seem bare, lacking words to show it.
Bess, how I hope some good concept of thine,
In thy soul's thought, naked, will bestow it;
Until whatever star, that guides my moving,
Points on me, graciously, with fair aspect,
And puts apparel on my tattered wooing,
To show me worthy of thy sweet respect.
Bess, may I dare boast how I do love thee;
‘Til then, bow my head, whil’st thou approve me.
Poetic Interpretation by: James H. Armistead
Copyright © James H. Armistead 2007
SONNET 27 ERRORS AND CLUES
Sonnet 27
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.
By: William Shakespeare
Sonnet 27 Dreaming of You (8 errors?)
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 work's expired.
For then my thoughts, far from where I reside,
Extend a zealous pilgrimage to thee,
And keep my drooping eyelids, open wide,
Looking on darkness, which the blind do see:
Except, my soul's imaginary sight,
Presents thy shadow to my sightless view,
Which, like a jewel, hung in ghostly light,
Makes night beauteous, and thy old face, new.
Bess, thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind,
For thee, and for myself, no quiet find.
Poetic Interpretation by: James H. Armistead
Copyright © James H. Armistead 2007
SONNET 28 ERRORS AND CLUES
Sonnet 28
How can I then return in happy plight,
That am debarred the benefit of rest?
When day's oppression is not eas'd by night,
But day by night and night by day oppress'd,
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-complexion'd 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
By: William Shakespeare
Sonnet 28 Alone At Sea (18 errors)
Bess, how can I return in happy plight,
When I am barr’d the benefits of rest?
When day's oppression is not eas'd by night,
Both day, by night, and night, by day, oppress'd;
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 it, thou art bright,
But dost it grace, when clouds block its heaven;
And, flatter I, the swart-complexion'd night,
When sparkling stars fire thou gilded oven.
Bess, day, doth daily, draws sorrows longer,
And night, doth nightly, makes grief's length stronger.
Poetic Interpretation by: James H. Armistead
Copyright © James H. Armistead 2007
SONNET 29 ERRORS AND CLUES
Sonnet 29
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 my self 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.
By: William Shakespeare
Sonnet 29 (4 errors?)
When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,
Bess, I alone, beweep my outcast state,
And trouble 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 possess’d,
Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy, contented, bless’d.
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.
Bess, thy sweet love, remembered, such wealth brings,
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
Poetic Interpretation by: James H. Armistead
Copyright © James H. Armistead 2007
SONNET 30 ERRORS AND CLUES
Sonnet 30
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:
Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow,
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,
And weep afresh love's long since cancell'd woe,
And moan the expense of many a vanish'd sight:
Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan,
Which I new pay as if not paid before.
But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
All losses are restor'd and sorrows end.
By: William Shakespeare
Sonnet 30 (8 errors?)
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought,
I summon up remembrance of things past,
I sigh the lack of many things I sought,
And with old woes, now wail my dear time's cast.
Bess, can I drown an eye, unused to flow,
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,
And weep afresh love's long since cancell'd woe,
And moan the expense of many a vanish'd sight?
Bess, can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily, from woe to woe, tell o'er
The sad account of each bemoaned moan,
Which I now pay, as if not paid before?
Bess, if the while I think on thee, dear friend,
All losses are restor'd, and sorrows end.
Poetic Interpretation by: James H. Armistead
Copyright © James H. Armistead 2007
SONNET 31 ERRORS AND CLUES
Sonnet 31
Thy bosom is endeared with all hearts,
Which I by lacking have supposed dead;
And there reigns Love, and all Love's loving parts,
And all those friends which I thought buried.
How many a holy and obsequious tear
Hath dear religious love stol'n from mine eye,
As interest of the dead, which now appear
But things remov'd that hidden in thee lie!
Thou art the grave where buried love doth live,
Hung with the trophies of my lovers gone,
Who all their parts of me to thee did give,
That due of many now is thine alone:
Their images I lov'd, I view in thee,
And thou (all they) hast all the all of me.
By: William Shakespeare
Sonnet 31 All My Loves in Thee (10 errors?)
Thy bosom is endear’d with all the hearts,
Which I, by lacking, have suspected wed;
And there reigns Love, and all Love's loving parts,
And all those friends, which I thought to be dead.
How many holy, obsequious tears
Hath dear-religious love stol’n from mine eye,
As tribute to the dead, which now appears
Just things remov'd, that hidden in thee lie!
Thou art the grave where buried love doth live,
Hung with the trophies of my lovers gone,
Who all their parts of me, to thee did give,
That you of many, now is thine alone.
Their images, I lov'd, I view in thee,
And thou, as they, hast all the all of me.
Poetic Interpretation by: James H. Armistead
Copyright © James H. Armistead 2007
SONNET 32 ERRORS AND CLUES
Sonnet 32
If thou survive my well-contented day,
When that churl Death my bones with dust shall cover
And shalt by fortune once more re-survey
These poor rude lines of thy deceased lover,
Compare them with the bett'ring of the time,
And though they be outstripped by every pen,
Reserve them for my love, not for their rhyme,
Exceeded by the height of happier men.
O! then vouchsafe me but this loving thought:
'Had my friend's Muse grown with this growing age,
A dearer birth than this his love had brought,
To march in ranks of better equipage:
But since he died and poets better prove,
Theirs for their style I'll read, his for his love'.
By: William Shakespeare
Sonnet 32 (4 errors?)
If thou survive my well-contented day,
When that churl Death my bones with dust shall cover,
And shalt by fortune once more re-survey,
These poor rude lines of thy deceased lover,
Compare them to the bett'ring of the time.
And, though they be outstripped by every pen,
Reserve them for my love, not for their rhyme,
Excelled by the height of happier men.
Bess, then vouchsafe me but this loving thought:
'Had my friend's Muse grown with this growing age,
A dearer birth than this, his love had brought,
To march in ranks of better equipage.
But, since he died, and poets better prove
Theirs for their style, I'll read his for his ‘poove’.
Poetic Interpretation by: James H. Armistead
Copyright © James H. Armistead 2007
SONNET 33 ERRORS AND CLUES
Sonnet 33
Full many a glorious morning have I seen
Flatter the mountain tops with sovereign eye,
Kissing with golden face the meadows green,
Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy;
Anon permit the basest clouds to ride
With ugly rack on his celestial face,
And from the forlorn world his visage hide,
Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace:
Even so my sun one early morn did shine,
With all triumphant splendour on my brow;
But out, alack, he was but one hour mine,
The region cloud hath mask'd him from me now.
Yet him for this my love no whit disdaineth;
Sons of the world may stain when heaven's sun staineth.
By: William Shakespeare
Sonnet 33 My Stained Son (21 errors?)
Many glorious mornings have I seen
Flatter the mountain tops with sovereign eye,
Kissing with golden face the meadows green,
Gilding pale streams with heaven’s alchemy.
And, soon permit the basest clouds to glide,
Leaving tracks on its celestial face,
And from the forlorn world its visage hide,
Reeling unseen to west with its disgrace.
Even so, my son, one early morn did shine,
With all triumphant splendor on my brow;
But, Bess, alack, he was but one hour mine;
Then, region clouds hath mask'd him from me now.
Bess, for this, my love, no whit disdaineth;
The world stains sons, when heaven’s son strainteth.
Poetic Interpretation by: James H. Armistead
Copyright © James H. Armistead 2007
SONNET 34 ERRORS AND CLUES
Sonnet 34
Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day,
And make me travel forth without my cloak,
To let base clouds o'ertake me in my way,
Hiding thy bravery in their rotten smoke?
'Tis not enough that through the cloud thou break,
To dry the rain on my storm-beaten face,
For no man well of such a salve can speak,
That heals the wound, and cures not the disgrace:
Nor can thy shame give physic to my grief;
Though thou repent, yet I have still the loss:
The offender's sorrow lends but weak relief
To him that bears the strong offence's cross.
Ah! but those tears are pearl which thy love sheds,
And they are rich and ransom all ill deeds.
By: William Shakespeare
Sonnet 34 Love’s Pearls (7 errors?)
Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day,
And make me travel forth without my cloak,
To let dark clouds o'ertake me on my way,
Hiding thy bravery in their rotten smoke?
'Tis not enough that through the clouds, thou peek,
To dry the rain on my storm-beaten face,
For no man well of such a salve can speak,
That heals the wound, and cures not the disgrace.
Nor can thy shame give physic to my grief;
Though thou repent, I have still the loss:
The offender's sorrow lends but weak relief
To him that bears the strong offence's cross.
Ah, Bess, those tears are pearls, which thy love needs,
And they are rich, and ransom all ill deeds.
Poetic Interpretation by: James H. Armistead
Copyright © James H. Armistead 2007
SONNET 35 ERRORS AND CLUES
Sonnet 35
No more be grieved at that which thou hast done:
Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud:
Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun,
And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud.
All men make faults, and even I in this,
Authorizing thy trespass with compare,
Myself corrupting, salving thy amiss,
Excusing thy sins more than thy sins are;
For to thy sensual fault I bring in sense,
Thy adverse party is thy advocate,
And 'gainst myself a lawful plea commence:
Such civil war is in my love and hate,
That I an accessary needs must be,
To that sweet thief which sourly robs from me.
By: William Shakespeare
Sonnet 35 (5 errors?)
No more be grieved at that which thou hast done:
Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud,
Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun,
And loathsome cankers live in sweetest bud.
All men make faults, and even I in this,
Authorizing thy trespass with compare,
Myself corrupting, salving thy amiss,
Excusing thy sins more than thy sins fare.
For to thy sensual fault I bring incense,
Thy adverse party is thy advocate,
And 'gainst myself a lawful plea commence:
Such civil war is in my love and hate,
That I, accessory, needs must be,
To that sweet thief, which sourly robs from me.
Poetic Interpretation by: James H. Armistead
Copyright © James H. Armistead 2007
SONNET 36 ERRORS AND CLUES
Sonnet 36
Let me confess that we two must be twain,
Although our undivided loves are one:
So shall those blots that do with me remain,
Without thy help, by me be borne alone.
In our two loves there is but one respect,
Though in our lives a separable spite,
Which though it alter not love's sole effect,
Yet doth it steal sweet hours from love's delight.
I may not evermore acknowledge thee,
Lest my bewailed guilt should do thee shame,
Nor thou with public kindness honour me,
Unless thou take that honour from thy name:
But do not so, I love thee in such sort,
As thou being mine, mine is thy good report.
By: William Shakespeare
Sonnet 36 (7 errors?)
Bess, I confess, that we two must be twain,
Although our undivided loves are one:
So, shall those blots that do with me remain,
Without thy help, by me, be borne alone.
In our two loves there is but one respect,
Though in our lives a separable spite,
Which though it alter not love's sole effect;
Yet, it doth steal sweet hours from love's delight.
I may not, evermore, acknowledge thee,
Lest my lamented guilt should do thee shame,
Nor thou with public kindness honor me,
Unless thou take that honor from thy name.
Bess, do not go. I love thee in support,
As thou being mine, mine thy good report.
Poetic Interpretation by: James H. Armistead
Copyright © James H. Armistead 2007
SONNET 37 ERRORS AND CLUES
This sonnet is believed to have been written to one of his sons.
Clues: The "f" was missing in "fall"; plus, line 7 was missing a count.
Sonnet 37
As a decrepit father takes delight
To see his active child do deeds of youth
So I, made lame by Fortune's dearest spite
Take all my comfort of thy worth and truth
For whether beauty, birth, or wealth, or wit
Or any of these all, or all, or more,
Entitled in thy parts, do crowned sit,
I make my love engrafted to this store
So then I am not lame, poor, nor despis'd
Whilst that this shadow doth such substance give
That I in thy abundance am suffic'd
And by a part of all thy glory live
Look what is best, that best I wish in thee
This wish I have; then ten times happy me.
By: William Shakespeare
Sonnet 37 A Royal Art Will (6 errors?)
As a decrepit father takes delight
To see his active child do deeds of youth,
So I, made lame by Fortune's dearest spite,
Take all my comfort in thy worth and truth.
For whether beauty, birth, or wealth, or wit,
Or any of these fall, or all, or more,
Entitled to my arts, you crowned shall sit,
I make my love engrafted to this store.
So, then I am not lame, poor, nor despis'd,
Whilst that this shadow doth such substance give
That I, in thy abundance, am suffic'd,
And by a part of all thy glory live.
Look what is best, that best I wish in thee:
This wish I have; then, ten times happy me!
Poetic Interpretation by: James H. Armistead
Copyright ©2005 James H. Armistead
SONNET 38 ERRORS AND CLUES
Sonnet 38
How can my muse want subject to invent,
While thou dost breathe, that pour'st into my verse
Thine own sweet argument, too excellent
For every vulgar paper to rehearse?
O! give thy self the thanks, if aught in me
Worthy perusal stand against thy sight;
For who's so dumb that cannot write to thee,
When thou thy self dost give invention light?
Be thou the tenth Muse, ten times more in worth
Than those old nine which rhymers invocate;
And he that calls on thee, let him bring forth
Eternal numbers to outlive long date.
If my slight muse do please these curious days,
The pain be mine, but thine shall be the praise.
By: William Shakespeare
Sonnet 38 (11 errors?)
How can my muse want subject to invent,
While thou dost breathe, that pours into my verse,
Thine own sweet argument, too excellent
For every vulgar pauper to rehearse?
Bess, give thyself the thanks, if thoughts in me,
Worthy perusal, stand against thy might.
For who's so dumb that cannot write to thee,
When thou, thyself, dost give invention light?
Be thou the tenth Muse, ten times more in worth,
Than those old nine, which rhymers innovate;
And he that calls on thee, let him bring earth
Eternal numbers to outlive long date.
If my slight muse do please thee curious ways,
The pain be mine, but thine shall be thy praise.
Poetic Interpretation by: James H. Armistead
Copyright © James H. Armistead 2007
SONNET 39 ERRORS AND CLUES
Sonnet 39
O! how thy worth with manners may I sing,
When thou art all the better part of me?
What can mine own praise to mine own self bring?
And what is't but mine own when I praise thee?
Even for this, let us divided live,
And our dear love lose name of single one,
That by this separation I may give
That due to thee which thou deserv'st alone.
O absence! what a torment wouldst thou prove,
Were it not thy sour leisure gave sweet leave,
To entertain the time with thoughts of love,
Which time and thoughts so sweetly doth deceive,
And that thou teachest how to make one twain,
By praising him here who doth hence remain.
By: William Shakespeare
Sonnet 39 (8 errors?)
Bess, how thy worth with manners may I sing,
When thou art all the better part of me?
What can mine own praise to mine own self bring?
And what is't but mine own, when I praise thee?
Even for this, let us divided live,
And our dear love lose name of single thone,
That by this separation I may give
That due to thee which thou deserv'st alone.
O absence! what a torment wouldst thou prove,
Were it not that sour leisure gives sweet leave,
To entertain the time with thoughts of love,
Which time and thoughts so sweetly doth deceive.
Bess, thou that teachest how to make one twain,
By praising him,
