EPISODE · May 22, 2024 · 1 MIN
Sonnet 2 (Shakespeare)
from The Classic Theatre · host Duse Productions
A Sonnet (or short poem) from a collection written by William Shakespeare, published in 1609. #2 Synopsis: 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. 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. (Project Gutenberg, Public Domain)
What this episode covers
A Sonnet (or short poem) from a collection written by William Shakespeare, published in 1609. #2 Synopsis: 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. 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. (Project Gutenberg, Public Domain)
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Sonnet 2 (Shakespeare)
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