The Final Couplet

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 147My love is as a fever, longing stillFor 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 approveDesire 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.

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!Had a lot of fun deconstructing this bleak sonnet - hope you enjoy listening to it. Sonnet 146Poor 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 lossAnd 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.

This is one of Shakespeare's weirder ones but I have to say it rolled off the tongue nicely!Sonnet 145Those lips that Love’s own hand did makeBreathed 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 sweetWas used in giving gentle doom,And taught it thus anew to greet:“I hate” she altered with an endThat followed it as gentle dayDoth 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.”

The Fair Youth x Dark Lady colab we have all been waiting for! Sonnet 144Two loves I have, of comfort and despair,Which like two spirits do suggest me still.The better angel is a man right fair,The worser spirit a woman colored ill.To win me soon to hell my female evilTempteth my better angel from my side,And would corrupt my saint to be a devil,Wooing his purity with her foul pride.And whether that my angel be turned fiendSuspect I may, yet not directly tell;But being both from me, both to each friend,I guess one angel in another’s hell. Yet this shall I ne’er know, but live in doubt, Till my bad angel fire my good one out.

My guest the week is the wickedly talented Actor, Writer and Voice Artist Joe Eyre. I had great fun recording this episode with Joe and debunking this ridiculous sonnet, stick around for his brilliant story at the end. Sonnet 143Lo, as a careful huswife runs to catchOne of her feathered creatures broke away,Sets down her babe, and makes all swift dispatchIn pursuit of the thing she would have stay,Whilst her neglected child holds her in chase,Cries to catch her whose busy care is bentTo follow that which flies before her face,Not prizing her poor infant’s discontent;So runn’st thou after that which flies from thee,Whilst I, thy babe, chase thee afar behind.But if thou catch thy hope, turn back to meAnd play the mother’s part: kiss me, be kind. So will I pray that thou mayst have thy will, If thou turn back and my loud crying still.

Shakespeare tells his lover that they both sleep with other people's partners and that's OK!Sonnet 142Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate,Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving.O, but with mine compare thou thine own state,And thou shalt find it merits not reproving;Or if it do, not from those lips of thine,That have profaned their scarlet ornamentsAnd sealed false bonds of love as oft as mine,Robbed others’ beds’ revenues of their rents.Be it lawful I love thee as thou lov’st thoseWhom thine eyes woo as mine importune thee:Root pity in thy heart, that, when it grows,Thy pity may deserve to pitied be.    If thou dost seek to have what thou dost hide,    By self-example mayst thou be denied.

Shakespeare is slowly unravelling - he says his eyes, nose, and taste hate his lover but his heart loves her. I try and work out what the hell that means! Sonnet 141In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes,For they in thee a thousand errors note;But ‘tis my heart that loves what they despise,Who, in despite of view, is pleased to dote;Nor are mine ears with thy tongue’s tune delighted,Nor tender feeling, to base touches prone,Nor taste, nor smell, desire to be invitedTo any sensual feast with thee alone:But my five wits nor my five senses canDissuade one foolish heart from serving thee,Who leaves unswayed the likeness of a man,Thy proud heart’s slave and vassal wretch to be.   Only my plague thus far I count my gain,   That she that makes me sin awards me pain.

Shakespeare makes desperate attempt to try and make the dark lady love him. It's both pathetic and manipulative - classic Shakespeare. Sonnet 140Be wise as thou art cruel; do not pressMy tongue-tied patience with too much disdain;Lest sorrow lend me words, and words expressThe manner of my pity-wanting pain.If I might teach thee wit, better it were,Though not to love, yet, love to tell me so;As testy sick men, when their deaths be near,No news but health from their physicians know;For, if I should despair, I should grow mad,And in my madness might speak ill of thee;Now this ill-wresting world is grown so bad,Mad slanderers by mad ears believed be.   That I may not be so, nor thou belied,   Bear thine eyes straight, though thy proud heart go wide.

Shakespeare is head of over heals in love with the "dark lady" but her can see his love isn't necessarily reciprocated. Sonnet 139 O! call not me to justify the wrongThat thy unkindness lays upon my heart;Wound me not with thine eye, but with thy tongue:Use power with power, and slay me not by art,Tell me thou lov'st elsewhere; but in my sight,Dear heart, forbear to glance thine eye aside:What need'st thou wound with cunning, when thy mightIs more than my o'erpressed defence can bide?Let me excuse thee: ah! my love well knowsHer pretty looks have been mine enemies;And therefore from my face she turns my foes,That they elsewhere might dart their injuries:   Yet do not so; but since I am near slain,   Kill me outright with looks, and rid my pain.

Shakespeare talks about ageing and infidelity and LIES in this one. The relationship is getting spicy. Sonnet 138When my love swears that she is made of truth,I do believe her though I know she lies,That she might think me some untutored youth,Unlearned in the world's false subtleties.Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,Although she knows my days are past the best,Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue:On both sides thus is simple truth suppressed:But wherefore says she not 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.

Shakespeare talks directly to love in this one and it's safe to say he isn't happy!Sonnet 137Thou blind fool, Love, what dost thou to mine eyes,That they behold, and see not what they see?They know what beauty is, see where it lies,Yet what the best is take the worst to be.If eyes, corrupt by over-partial looks,Be anchored in the bay where all men ride,Why of eyes' falsehood hast thou forged hooks,Whereto the judgment of my heart is tied?Why should my heart think that a several plot,Which my heart knows the wide world's common place?Or mine eyes, seeing this, say this is not,To put fair truth upon so foul a face?   In things right true my heart and eyes have erred,   And to this false plague are they now transferred.

Shakespeare continues using his name over and over again in order to make a point. The final couplet in this one hits different. Sonnet 136If thy soul check thee that I come so near,Swear to thy blind soul that I was thy Will,And will, thy soul knows, is admitted there;Thus far for love, my love-suit, sweet, fulfil.Will, will fulfil the treasure of thy love,Ay, fill it full with wills, and my will one.In things of great receipt with ease we proveAmong a number one is reckoned none:Then in the number let me pass untold,Though in thy store’s account I one must be;For nothing hold me, so it please thee holdThat nothing me, a something sweet to thee:Make but my name thy love, and love that still,And then thou lovest me for my name is ‘Will’.

Shakespeare gets very sexual in this one. I've never heard so many innuendos in one poem - listener be warned!Sonnet 135Whoever hath her wish, thou hast thy Will,And Will to boot, and Will in overplus;More than enough am I that vex thee still,To thy sweet will making addition thus.Wilt thou, whose will is large and spacious,Not once vouchsafe to hide my will in thine?Shall will in others seem right gracious,And in my will no fair acceptance shine?The sea, all water, yet receives rain still,And in abundance addeth to his store;So thou being rich in Will add to thy WillOne will of mine, to make thy large Will more.   Let no unkind, no fair beseechers kill;   Think all but one, and me in that one Will.

Shakespeare and his mate have both fallen in love with the same woman. Nightmare! Sonnet 134So now I have confessed that he is thine,And I my self am mortgaged to thy will,Myself I'll forfeit, so that other mineThou wilt restore to be my comfort still:But thou wilt not, nor he will not be free,For thou art covetous, and he is kind;He learned but surety-like to write for me,Under that bond that him as fast doth bind.The statute of thy beauty thou wilt take,Thou usurer, that put'st forth all to use,And sue a friend came debtor for my sake;So him I lose through my unkind abuse.   Him have I lost; thou hast both him and me:   He pays the whole, and yet am I not free.

Join me and my amazing guest Kaffe Keating for our third and final Christmas Special. We talk Shakespeare and religion, weird festive traditions and the hell they got up to at New Year! Kaffe also surprised me with a phenomenal Christmas present at the end, so make sure to stick around.

Shakespeare is really annoyed because his friend has now fallen in love with the Dark Lady as well.Our story continues with a confrontation! Sonnet 133Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groanFor that deep wound it gives my friend and me!Is't not enough to torture me alone,But slave to slavery my sweet'st friend must be?Me from myself thy cruel eye hath taken,And my next self thou harder hast engrossed:Of him, myself, and thee I am forsaken;A torment thrice three-fold thus to be crossed.Prison my heart in thy steel bosom's ward,But then my friend's heart let my poor heart bail;Whoe'er keeps me, let my heart be his guard;Thou canst not then use rigour in my jail:   And yet thou wilt; for I, being pent in thee,   Perforce am thine, and all that is in me.

Shakespeare talks about his lovers eyes being all dark and pitying. He seems to like being pitied for some reason. Sonnet 132Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying me,Knowing thy heart torments me with disdain,Have put on black and loving mourners be,Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain.And truly not the morning sun of heavenBetter becomes the grey cheeks of the east,Nor that full star that ushers in the even,Doth half that glory to the sober west,As those two mourning eyes become thy face:O! let it then as well beseem thy heartTo mourn for me since mourning doth thee grace,And suit thy pity like in every part.   Then will I swear beauty herself is black,   And all they foul that thy complexion lack.

Shakespeare exhibits some incel behaviour in this one, I don't think he knows whether he loves the dark lady or not at this point. Sonnet 131Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art,As those whose beauties proudly make them cruel;For well thou know'st to my dear doting heartThou art the fairest and most precious jewel.Yet, in good faith, some say that thee behold,Thy face hath not the power to make love groan;To say they err I dare not be so bold,Although I swear it to myself alone.And to be sure that is not false I swear,A thousand groans, but thinking on thy face,One on another's neck, do witness bearThy black is fairest in my judgment's place.   In nothing art thou black save in thy deeds,   And thence this slander, as I think, proceeds.

I'm joined for the second time by the brilliant actor and writer, Emma Paetz. You might have seen her in the likes of DC's "Pennyworth" & BBCs "The Famous Five". We had a great time unpacking this classic. Sonnet 130My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;Coral is far more red than her lips' red;If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.I have seen roses damasked, red and white,But no such roses see I in her cheeks;And in some perfumes is there more delightThan in the breath that from my mistress reeks.I love to hear her speak, yet well I knowThat music hath a far more pleasing sound;I grant I never saw a goddess go;My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground.   And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare   As any she belied with false compare.

Shakespeare talks about lust and how damaging it can be. This one is a LITTLE SPICY. Sonnet 129Th' expense of spirit in a waste of shameIs lust in action; and till action, lustIs perjured, murd'rous, bloody, full of blame,Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust,Enjoyed no sooner but despisèd straight,Past reason hunted; and, no sooner hadPast reason hated as a swallowed baitOn purpose laid to make the taker mad;Mad in pursuit and in possession so,Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme;A bliss in proof and proved, a very woe;Before, a joy proposed; behind, a dream.    All this the world well knows; yet none knows well    To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell.

Shakespeare wishes he was a piano key so the dark lady could play him elegantly with her fingers. Weird? Sonnet 128How oft when thou, my music, music play'st,Upon that blessed wood whose motion soundsWith thy sweet fingers when thou gently sway'stThe wiry concord that mine ear confounds,Do I envy those jacks that nimble leap,To kiss the tender inward of thy hand,Whilst my poor lips which should that harvest reap,At the wood's boldness by thee blushing stand!To be so tickled, they would change their stateAnd situation with those dancing chips,O'er whom thy fingers walk with gentle gait,Making dead wood more bless'd than living lips.   Since saucy jacks so happy are in this,   Give them thy fingers, me thy lips to kiss.

We say goodbye to "the fair youth" and hello to "the dark lady". Shakespeare talks about cosmetics and how he thinks they are ruining true beauty. Sonnet 127In the old age black was not counted fair,Or if it were, it bore not beauty's name;But now is black beauty's successive heir,And beauty slandered with a bastard shame:For since each hand hath put on Nature's power,Fairing the foul with Art's false borrowed face,Sweet beauty hath no name, no holy bower,But is profaned, if not lives in disgrace.Therefore my mistress' eyes are raven black,Her eyes so suited, and they mourners seemAt such who, not born fair, no beauty lack,Sland'ring creation with a false esteem:   Yet so they mourn becoming of their woe,   That every tongue says beauty should look so.

The last sonnet in the fair youth series! Can we call it a sonnet if it doesn't have 14 lines? Our story comes to its conclusion.Sonnet 126O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy powerDost hold Time's fickle glass, his sickle, hour;Who hast by waning grown, and therein showestThy lovers withering, as thy sweet self growest.If Nature, sovereign mistress over wrack,As thou goest onwards still will pluck thee back,She keeps thee to this purpose, that her skillMay time disgrace and wretched minutes kill.Yet fear her, O thou minion of her pleasure!She may detain, but not still keep, her treasure:Her audit (though delayed) answered must be,And her quietus is to render thee.   (                                           )   (                                            )

Shakespeare's penultimate sonnet to the fair youth! Sonnet 125Were't aught to me I bore the canopy,With my extern the outward honouring,Or laid great bases for eternity,Which proves more short than waste or ruining?Have I not seen dwellers on form and favourLose all and more by paying too much rentFor compound sweet, forgoing simple savour,Pitiful thrivers, in their gazing spent?No; let me be obsequious in thy heart,And take thou my oblation, poor but free,Which is not mixed with seconds, knows no art,But mutual render, only me for thee.   Hence, thou suborned informer! a true soul   When most impeached stands least in thy control.

Shakespeare aims for a strong a steady relationship that isn't swayed by the fashions of the time. Sonnet 124If my dear love were but the child of state,It might for Fortune's bastard be unfathered,As subject to Time's love or to Time's hate,Weeds among weeds, or flowers with flowers gathered.No, it was builded far from accident;It suffers not in smiling pomp, nor fallsUnder the blow of thralled discontent,Whereto th' inviting time our fashion calls:It fears not policy, that heretic,Which works on leases of short-number'd hours,But all alone stands hugely politic,That it nor grows with heat, nor drowns with showers.   To this I witness call the fools of time,   Which die for goodness, who have lived for crime.

Shakespeare returns to his age old habit of talking directly to time itself. Sonnet 123No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change:Thy pyramids built up with newer mightTo me are nothing novel, nothing strange;They are but dressings of a former sight.Our dates are brief, and therefore we admireWhat thou dost foist upon us that is old;And rather make them born to our desireThan think that we before have heard them told.Thy registers and thee I both defy,Not wondering at the present nor the past,For thy records and what we see doth lie,Made more or less by thy continual haste.   This I do vow and this shall ever be;   I will be true despite thy scythe and thee.

Shakespeare talks about regifting a notebook that was given to him. He argues that having to write in the notebook will make him more forgetful. Terrible excuse in my eyes! Sonnet 122Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brainFull charactered with lasting memory,Which shall above that idle rank remain,Beyond all date, even to eternity:Or, at the least, so long as brain and heartHave faculty by nature to subsist;Till each to razed oblivion yield his partOf thee, thy record never can be missed.That poor retention could not so much hold,Nor need I tallies thy dear love to score;Therefore to give them from me was I bold,To trust those tables that receive thee more:   To keep an adjunct to remember thee   Were to import forgetfulness in me.

I'm joined this week by powerhouse actor James Corrigan who has worked more at the RSC than i've had hot dinners. We talk about Shakespeare's rage, philosophy & school playground antics. Sonnet 121'Tis better to be vile than vile esteemed,When not to be receives reproach of being;And the just pleasure lost, which is so deemedNot by our feeling, but by others' seeing:For why should others' false adulterate eyesGive salutation to my sportive blood?Or on my frailties why are frailer spies,Which in their wills count bad what I think good?No, I am that I am, and they that levelAt my abuses reckon up their own:I may be straight though they themselves be bevel;By their rank thoughts, my deeds must not be shown;   Unless this general evil they maintain,   All men are bad and in their badness reign.

Shakespeare tries to tell his lover that they have both cheated on each other so they should just call it quits and move on...Sonnet 120That you were once unkind befriends me now,And for that sorrow, which I then did feel,Needs must I under my transgression bow,Unless my nerves were brass or hammered steel.For if you were by my unkindness shaken,As I by yours, you've passed a hell of time;And I, a tyrant, have no leisure takenTo weigh how once I suffered in your crime.O! that our night of woe might have rememberedMy deepest sense, how hard true sorrow hits,And soon to you, as you to me, then tenderedThe humble salve, which wounded bosoms fits! But that your trespass now becomes a fee; Mine ransoms yours, and yours must ransom me.

Sonnet 118 part 2 really, Sonnet 119 is a direct continuation. Shakespeare talks about the benefits of ruining your relationship by being evil. Our story continues with Shakespeare paying a visit to the local bell tower. Sonnet 119 What potions have I drunk of Siren tears,Distilled from limbecks foul as hell within,Applying fears to hopes, and hopes to fears,Still losing when I saw myself to win!What wretched errors hath my heart committed,Whilst it hath thought itself so blessed never!How have mine eyes out of their spheres been fitted,In the distraction of this madding fever!O benefit of ill! now I find trueThat better is by evil still made better;And ruined love, when it is built anew,Grows fairer than at first, more strong, far greater.   So I return rebuked to my content,   And gain by ills thrice more than I have spent.

Shakespeare tries to explain why he's been cheating on his lover so much. I'm not sure if it's going to work to be honest. Sonnet 118Like as, to make our appetites more keen,With eager compounds we our palate urge;As, to prevent our maladies unseen,We sicken to shun sickness when we purge;Even so, being full of your ne'er-cloying sweetness,To bitter sauces did I frame my feeding;And, sick of welfare, found a kind of meetnessTo be diseased, ere that there was true needing.Thus policy in love, to anticipateThe ills that were not, grew to faults assured,And brought to medicine a healthful stateWhich, rank of goodness, would by ill be cured;   But thence I learn and find the lesson true,   Drugs poison him that so fell sick of you.

Difficult to follow last weeks classic. A tricky second album - if you will. Shakespeare reveals his toxic side in this one. Again. Sonnet 117Accuse me thus: that I have scanted all,Wherein I should your great deserts repay,Forgot upon your dearest love to call,Whereto all bonds do tie me day by day;That I have frequent been with unknown minds,And given to time your own dear-purchased right;That I have hoisted sail to all the windsWhich should transport me farthest from your sight.Book both my wilfulness and errors down,And on just proof surmise accumulate;Bring me within the level of your frown,But shoot not at me in your wakened hate;   Since my appeal says I did strive to prove   The constancy and virtue of your love.

This is a famous one. You might have heard it at a wedding or two. But this doesn't mean we can't critique it, right? Sonnet 116Let me not to the marriage of true mindsAdmit impediments. Love is not loveWhich alters when it alteration findsOr bends with the remover to remove.O, no, it is an ever-fixèd markThat looks on tempests and is never shaken;It is the star to every wand’ring bark,Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeksWithin his bending sickle’s compass come;Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error, and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

Shakespeare has a nice little argument with himself about when love it at it's most potent. Our story continues with Shakespeare still mistaking the poor doctor for the Earl Of Southampton. Sonnet 115Those lines that I before have writ do lie,Even those that said I could not love you dearer:Yet then my judgment knew no reason whyMy most full flame should afterwards burn clearer.But reckoning Time, whose million'd accidentsCreep in 'twixt vows, and change decrees of kings,Tan sacred beauty, blunt the sharp'st intents,Divert strong minds to the course of altering things;Alas! why, fearing of Time's tyranny,Might I not then say, 'Now I love you best,'When I was certain o'er incertainty,Crowning the present, doubting of the rest?   Love is a babe, then might I not say so,   To give full growth to that which still doth grow?

Shakespeare delivers another Sonnet all about how he can see his lover in everything - even really ugly things. Sonnet 114Or whether doth my mind, being crowned with you,Drink up the monarch's plague, this flattery?Or whether shall I say, mine eye saith true,And that your love taught it this alchemy,To make of monsters and things indigestSuch cherubins as your sweet self resemble,Creating every bad a perfect best,As fast as objects to his beams assemble?O! 'tis the first, 'tis flattery in my seeing,And my great mind most kingly drinks it up:Mine eye well knows what with his gust is 'greeing,And to his palate doth prepare the cup:   If it be poisoned, 'tis the lesser sin   That mine eye loves it and doth first begin.

Shakespeare takes a break from his lover but can't help seeing him in everywhere. I imagine it a bit like "Being John Malkovich". Sonnet 113Since I left you, mine eye is in my mind;And that which governs me to go aboutDoth part his function and is partly blind,Seems seeing, but effectually is out;For it no form delivers to the heartOf bird, of flower, or shape which it doth latch:Of his quick objects hath the mind no part,Nor his own vision holds what it doth catch;For if it see the rud'st or gentlest sight,The most sweet favour or deformed'st creature,The mountain or the sea, the day or night,The crow, or dove, it shapes them to your feature.   Incapable of more, replete with you,   My most true mind thus maketh mine eye untrue.

I explore William Shakespeare's 112th Sonnet. I think it's all about being a celebrity and how hard it is to be in the public eye. It's a direct continuation from Sonnet 111 so if you haven't listened to that episode yet, go back and have a listen maybe? Our improvised story continues with a development in Shakespeare's love affair with The Earl of Southampton.

Shakespeare seems to think being in public eye is making him a bad person - A bit like a celebrity these days...Sonnet 111O! for my sake do you with Fortune chide,The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds,That did not better for my life provideThan public means which public manners breeds.Thence comes it that my name receives a brand,And almost thence my nature is subduedTo what it works in, like the dyer's hand:Pity me, then, and wish I were renewed;Whilst, like a willing patient, I will drinkPotions of eisel 'gainst my strong infection;No bitterness that I will bitter think,Nor double penance, to correct correction.   Pity me then, dear friend, and I assure ye,   Even that your pity is enough to cure me.

Shakespeare confesses to his lover that he has been cheating! Our story continues with The Earl of Southampton making Shakespeare take a trip to St Paul's Cathedral.

Wow, you can watch this as a video now! In this episode I discuss Shakespeare's Sonnet 109 which is all about infidelity and time apart.

Shakespeare talks about how hard it is to write new things about your love! Our story continues with Shakespeare and The Earl of SouthamptonSonnet 108 What's in the brain that ink may characterWhich hath not figured to thee my true spirit?What's new to speak, what now to register,That may express my love, or thy dear merit?Nothing, sweet boy; but yet, like prayers divine,I must each day say o'er the very same;Counting no old thing old, thou mine, I thine,Even as when first I hallowed thy fair name.So that eternal love in love's fresh case,Weighs not the dust and injury of age,Nor gives to necessary wrinkles place,But makes antiquity for aye his page;   Finding the first conceit of love there bred,   Where time and outward form would show it dead.

Do we have a new character on the block? Is he called The Earl Of Southampton? Was he in prison? Lots of questions in this Sonnet! Sonnet 107Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soulOf the wide world dreaming on things to come,Can yet the lease of my true love control,Suppos'd as forfeit to a confin'd doom.The mortal moon hath her eclipse endur'dAnd the sad augurs mock their own presage;Incertainties now crown themselves assur'dAnd peace proclaims olives of endless age.Now with the drops of this most balmy timeMy love looks fresh, and Death to me subscribes,Since, spite of him, I'll live in this poor rhyme,While he insults o'er dull and speechless tribes;And thou in this shalt find thy monument,When tyrants' crests and tombs of brass are spent.

Shakespeare looks back on some of the literary greats and realises that none of them can describe how hot his young lover is. Our story continues with Marlowe making a shocking discovery!Sonnet 106When in the chronicle of wasted timeI see descriptions of the fairest wights,And beauty making beautiful old rhymeIn praise of ladies dead and lovely knights,Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty's best,Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow,I see their antique pen would have express'dEven such a beauty as you master now.So all their praises are but propheciesOf this our time, all you prefiguring;And, for they look'd but with divining eyes,They had not skill enough your worth to sing:For we, which now behold these present days,Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise.

Shakespeare talks idolatry and mimics religious speeches on Sonnet 105. Our story continues with a trip to "The London Church"Sonnet 105Let not my love be called idolatry,Nor my beloved as an idol show,Since all alike my songs and praises beTo one, of one, still such, and ever so.Kind is my love to-day, to-morrow kind,Still constant in a wondrous excellence;Therefore my verse to constancy confined,One thing expressing, leaves out difference.Fair, kind, and true, is all my argument,Fair, kind, and true, varying to other words;And in this change is my invention spent,Three themes in one, which wondrous scope affords.Fair, kind, and true, have often lived alone,Which three till now, never kept seat in one.

I'm back on my own for this one! Shakespeare is back to his old ways of talking about ageing and beauty. Our story continues with Shakespeare and Marlowe taking "a break". Sonnet 104To me, fair friend, you never can be old,For as you were when first your eye I eyed,Such seems your beauty still. Three winters coldHave from the forests shook three summers’ pride,Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turnedIn process of the seasons have I seen,Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burned,Since first I saw you fresh, which yet are green.Ah, yet doth beauty, like a dial-hand,Steal from his figure, and no pace perceived;So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth stand,Hath motion, and mine eye may be deceived:For fear of which, hear this, thou age unbred:Ere you were born was beauty’s summer dead.

Jacob joins me for the last of our series of 4 Sonnets! As well as dissecting Sonnet 103 we also talk about who Shakespeare really was and discuss Elizabeth Winkler's fantastic book about the topic. Sonnet 103Alack! what poverty my Muse brings forth,That having such a scope to show her pride,The argument all bare is of more worthThan when it hath my added praise beside!O! blame me not, if I no more can write!Look in your glass, and there appears a faceThat over-goes my blunt invention quite,Dulling my lines, and doing me disgrace.Were it not sinful then, striving to mend,To mar the subject that before was well?For to no other pass my verses tendThan of your graces and your gifts to tell;   And more, much more, than in my verse can sit,   Your own glass shows you when you look in it.

Jacob joins me for our penultimate sonnet in this series of 4! As well as deconstructing Sonnet 102, we discuss distressing story of Philomel and her importance to Shakespeare. Sonnet 102My love is strengthen'd, though more weak in seeming;I love not less, though less the show appear;That love is merchandized whose rich esteemingThe owner's tongue doth publish everywhere.Our love was new, and then but in the springWhen I was wont to greet it with my lays;As Philomel in summer's front doth sing,And stops her pipe in growth of riper days:Not that the summer is less pleasant nowThan when her mournful hymns did hush the night,But that wild music burthens every boughAnd sweets grown common lose their dear delight.   Therefore like her, I sometime hold my tongue,   Because I would not dull you with my song.The AI Generation of The Fair Youth: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1meE-QvZMGa_dIeZR_0fxngX-1EOY1bCs/view?usp=sharing

Jacob Fortune-Lloyd joins me again to explore Sonnet 101. It's a dense one so strap in! Sonnet 101O truant Muse what shall be thy amendsFor thy neglect of truth in beauty dyed?Both truth and beauty on my love depends;So dost thou too, and therein dignified.Make answer Muse: wilt thou not haply say,'Truth needs no colour, with his colour fixed;Beauty no pencil, beauty's truth to lay;But best is best, if never intermixed'?Because he needs no praise, wilt thou be dumb?Excuse not silence so, for't lies in theeTo make him much outlive a gilded tombAnd to be praised of ages yet to be.   Then do thy office, Muse; I teach thee how   To make him seem, long hence, as he shows now.

We've hit 100 and to celebrate I am joined by friend of the podcast and esteemed actor Jacob Fortune-Lloyd for the next 4 sonnets! You might have seen him in The Queens Gambit, Bodies or Midas Man. You might even have seen him at the RSC if you like your Shakespeare! I've attached the link to our AI generated Shakespeare, enjoy!

I got 99 Problems but this sonnet ain't one. .. But it is a little bit weird because it has 15 lines. Shakespeare takes flower personification to the next level. Our story continues with a trip to Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens.