Sonnet Analysis: Shakespeare I

Well, it's time to go into the bowels of literature and dig out the metaphorical entrails. By why I mean, it's time to tackle (one of) Shakespeare's sonnets. The big 154; the "sugar'd sonnets" circulated among his private friends; the sonnets famously "begotten" by a Mr. W.H. Those bad boys.

Let's start with sonnet 138: "When my love swears that she is made of truth."

When my love swears that she is made of truth
I do believe her, though I know she lies,
That she might thinks me some untutored youth
Unlearned in the world's false subtleties.
Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,
Although I know my years are past the best,
Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue;
On both sides, then, is simple truth suppressed.
But wherefore says not she she is unjust?
And wherefore say not I that I am old?
O, love's best habit is in seeming trust
And age in love loves not to have years told.
Therefore I lie with her, and she with me,
And in our faults, by lies we flattered be.

Triumphs:
I should say up-front that this is probably my favorite of Shakespeare's sonnets, although I can never decide if I prefer this one or sonnet 130 "My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun." In either case, I adore this sonnet, and so I think there are many triumphs in it. One of the greatest is the use of multiple meanings of the same word within the poem - or more impressively, even in the same use, where the word makes sense in two or more of its potential readings, thus allowing multiple readings of the same line. This effect occurs in line eleven, where "love's best habit" can mean either the best action to which love is accustomed (one sense of habit) or the best (metaphorical) clothing for love (another sense of habit). The latter sense even shades over towards devotional implications via the associations of the word "habit" for clothing with religious orders. That definition of habit is also strengthened by the "seeming trust," which implies some form of alteration or disguise - such as putting on different clothes - but either meaning remains possible, delightfully. The crowning glory here though is line thirteen, where "lie" splits into both "telling a falsehoods" and "having sex with." Obviously, the sense of "lie with" tends towards the latter - it's Biblical, after all - but given the entire sense of the preceding twelve lines and the connective "therefore," it is impossible to dismiss the former in the sense of "tell falsehoods in conjunction with;" that is, that together they are conspiring to lie, and therefore they are lying with each other. It is a glorious double-meaning, and it allows the sonnet to simultaneously turn, by moving slightly away from the theme of falsehood, and stay straight on tack with it.

A related bit of brilliance is represented in the phrases "age in love loves not to have years told" and "vainly thinking that she thinks me young," in which words reappear in slightly different forms with different uses in the sentence. In both cases, this serves to emphasize the importance of that word both in the line and in the poem as a whole; and "lie" (repeated over and over throughout), "love," and "think," echo through the poem with immense power. The implicit negation of one of the two in each of the pairs quoted at the start of this paragraph is also extremely powerful, as it pushes towards, but not does not fall into the trap of, paradox, and draws strength from the association.

I also adore the end-stopped rhythms of this poem. It is not purely end-stopped, of course; the first line is arguably enjambed, so that would be a difficult accusation to make stick. But it manages to feel end-stopped because the couplets are most definitely so, and even what seems like it should be enjambment between those first two lines is also freighted with a little pause for effect, almost enough to call it end-stopped as well. Yet unlike with much end-stopping, which can feel heavy-handed or harsh (and I will have a post on this in the near future), the poem instead draws strength from it. The sense flows so clearly that the end-stopping does not halt the poem, but instead gives weight to the sense of each line individually, nicely balancing what would otherwise be an absolutely blistering pace of rhetorical speed. No line or even word seems wasted; the closest that comes is "simple" in "simple truth," and to call it unnecessary is really to second-guess what was in the author's head to a degree even a critic should shy away from; it fails both tests that I would use in this case, which are as follows: does the concept being modified by the adjective does always possess the property of the adjective (no, there are complex truths) and is the meaning of the poem enhanced by specifying that property (yes, as it is important that the truths they are each denying are indeed simple and obvious to anyone). It also hits the "simply" of "simply I credit" for added emphasis. So even that "simple" is doing its bit to improve the poem, and a poem with no wasted words is one to treasure; and in this case, that lack of waste causes the poem to skip rapidly on its way to the end, only slowed down to a reasonable speed by the weight of the end-stopped lines, which produces an excellent tension within the poem.

Imperfections:
There are few imperfections with this poem; most of what might appear to be imperfections can be more clearly understood as archaisms (for which see below). But sadly there is one point I think appears as an imperfection even in Shakespeare's day, and it appears in the last line. "By lies we flattered be" completes the rhyme, and it is not unusual in Elizabethan or Jacobean poetry to see inversions like this or the replacement of the "are" in "we are flattered" by the infinitive "be" within those inversions. But within a poem that has otherwise avoided any such hiccups in normal word order, even when this was not an archaism it would have seemed a slight blemish, as the resort at last to poetic convention after such a strong beginning cannot help but seem a little forced.

Archaisms:
The greatest archaism is that mentioned above, that "by lies we flattered be" should seem only slightly and not massively discordant with the rest of the poem. Also, the rhyme of "lies" and "subtleties" would have been full in Shakespeare's day rather than slant at the current moment, and the need for "unlearned" to be trisyllabic is definitely archaic. Finally, of course, "lie with" itself has fallen out of use, but it is still definitely recognizable enough to hold its own within the poem. Aside from these minor points, however, the poem holds up quite well to a modern ear; and I think even those imperfect archaisms cannot undermine the ultimate beauty of the poem.