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Arthur Schopenhauer On Happiness 3a (Mutability)

19 Sunday Jan 2020

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The rationale for Schopenhauer’s renunciation as the basis for happiness lies in the mutability of the physical world:

The chief obstacle to our arriving at these salutary views is that hypocrisy of the world to which I have already alluded–an hypocrisy which should be early revealed to the young. Most of the glories of the world are mere outward show, like the scenes on a stage: there is nothing real about them. Ships festooned and hung with pennants, firing of cannon, illuminations, beating of drums and blowing of trumpets, shouting and applauding–these are all the outward sign, the pretence and suggestion,–as it were the hieroglyphic,–of joy: but just there, joy is, as a rule, not to be found; it is the only guest who has declined to be present at the festival.

While Schopenhauer derived his concept of renunciation due to mutability based upon a Buddhist (which is consonant with Hindu concepts) understanding of reality. However, in evaluating his reading, we should also compare this language with Western responses to mutability. First, concepts of mutability were being addressed in contemporary Western Romanticism as well as Western thought generally. Second, by considering a different consideration of the same proposition from a different direction, we have a greater perspective to evaluate the matter.

Schopenhauer’s metaphor to life being a play (“Most of the glories of the world are mere outward show, like the scenes on a stage: there is nothing real about them), appears much in Shakespeare. Perhaps the closest analogy is found in Macbeth’s speech upon hearing that his wife has died and now his downfall is in view:

(FTLN 2278) [19]     The Queen, my lord, is dead.

Macbeth

(FTLN 2279) [20]     She should have died hereafter.

(FTLN 2280) [21]     There would have been a time for such a word.

(FTLN 2281) [22]     Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow

(FTLN 2282) [23]     Creeps in this petty pace from day to day

(FTLN 2283) [24]     To the last syllable of recorded time,

(FTLN 2284) [25]     And all our yesterdays have lighted fools

(FTLN 2285) [26]     The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!

(FTLN 2286) [27]     Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player

(FTLN 2287) [28]     That struts and frets his hour upon the stage

(FTLN 2288) [29]     And then is heard no more. It is a tale

(FTLN 2289) [30]     Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,

(FTLN 2290) [31]     Signifying nothing.

 

Act V, 5, 19-31. Schopenhauer has a similar view to Macbeth when it comes to the matter of the mutability of the world. Seeing that the world is impermanent, life is meaningless and is best not trusted. This is especially poignant in Macbeth, in that he has been destroying a kingdom and committing murder upon murder to obtain something which he hoped would be permanent: a kingdom. But even in that, he was told that the throne would not pass to his son.

There is thus the irony of seeking to obtain something seemingly powerful and permanent: a throne; and to seek it by proving that neither the throne nor life is permanent.

A similar but different view of the matter is found in The Tempest, Shakespeare’s farewell to the stage.

The Magician Prospero has put a play acted by spirits who appear from nowhere and then vanish just as quickly when Prospero needs to attend to other business. The young man who marry is daughter is distraught at the sudden disappearance of the spirits. Prospero then turns to him and uses the doctrine of mutability to explain the matter:

Prospero, ⌜to Ferdinand⌝

(FTLN 1832) [163]   You do look, my son, in a moved sort,

(FTLN 1833) [164]   As if you were dismayed. Be cheerful, sir.

(FTLN 1834) [165]   Our revels now are ended. These our actors,

(FTLN 1835) [166]   As I foretold you, were all spirits and

(FTLN 1836) [167]   Are melted into air, into thin air;

(FTLN 1837) [168]   And like the baseless fabric of this vision,

(FTLN 1838) [169]   The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces,

(FTLN 1839) [170]   The solemn temples, the great globe itself,

(FTLN 1840) [171]   Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve,

(FTLN 1841) [172]   And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,

(FTLN 1842) [173]   Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff

(FTLN 1843) [174]   As dreams are made on, and our little life

(FTLN 1844) [175]   Is rounded with a sleep. Sir, I am vexed.

(FTLN 1845) [176]   Bear with my weakness. My old brain is troubled.

(FTLN 1846) [177]   Be not disturbed with my infirmity.

(FTLN 1847) [178]   If you be pleased, retire into my cell

(FTLN 1848) [179]   And there repose. A turn or two I’ll walk

(FTLN 1849) [180]   To still my beating mind.

Act IV, Scene 1, lines 163-180. This physical world is insubstantial, so why should a plain realization of this fact trouble you so. Shakespeare does not resolve this tension immediately, but does it work it out through the action of the play.

In Macbeth the usurpation of the king by murder results in the destruction of Macbeth and enormous sorrow for the kingdom. In the Tempest, the usurpation of the Duke (who becomes the magician on the island) is resolved by the restoration of his throne through the marriage of his daughter to the Prince of Naples.

When the play is read against the most common understanding which is Shakespeare giving his leave to the theater, there are various levels of irony. The play within the play is dissolved at the word of the Magician. The play itself is dissolved and the characters are released from their duty to the audience:

(FTLN 2344)          [1]               Now my charms are all o’erthrown,

(FTLN 2345)          [2]               And what strength I have ’s mine own,

(FTLN 2346)          [3]               Which is most faint. Now ’tis true

(FTLN 2347)          [4]               I must be here confined by you,

(FTLN 2348)          [5]               Or sent to Naples. Let me not,

(FTLN 2349)          [6]               Since I have my dukedom got

(FTLN 2350)          [7]               And pardoned the deceiver, dwell

(FTLN 2351)          [8]               In this bare island by your spell,

(FTLN 2352)          [9]               But release me from my bands

(FTLN 2353)        [10]               With the help of your good hands.

(FTLN 2354)        [11]               Gentle breath of yours my sails

(FTLN 2355)        [12]               Must fill, or else my project fails,

(FTLN 2356)        [13]               Which was to please. Now I want

(FTLN 2357)        [14]               Spirits to enforce, art to enchant,

(FTLN 2358)        [15]               And my ending is despair,

(FTLN 2359)        [16]               Unless I be relieved by prayer,

(FTLN 2360)        [17]               Which pierces so that it assaults

(FTLN 2361)        [18]               Mercy itself, and frees all faults.

(FTLN 2362)        [19]                     As you from crimes would pardoned be,

(FTLN 2363)        [20]                     Let your indulgence set me free.

He exits.

It was magic which presented the momentary world of the play, “Now my charms are all o’erthrown”. But within the logic of the play, he would be forced to stay on a “baren” island rather than returned to his dukedom: By the audience letting lose of the illusion of the play, the Magician is permitted to return to his “real” or proper life. When we take a step back and put this into the context of Shakespeare’s life, Shakespeare then would leave the false and magic world for the “real” life at his home.

But notice here that the temporality of the world in this play is not a cause for despair, but rather of release and rest. The play ends with “mercy” and “forgiveness”.

In Sonnet 73, Shakespeare uses the temporality of life as the basis to drive the intensity of the love:

73

[1]       That time of year thou mayst in me behold

[2]       When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang

[3]       Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,

[4]       Bare ruined choirs where late the sweet birds sang.

[5]       In me thou see’st the twilight of such day

[6]       As after sunset fadeth in the west,

[7]       Which by and by black night doth take away,

[8]       Death’s second self, that seals up all in rest.

[9]       In me thou see’st the glowing of such fire

[10]     That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,

[11]     As the death-bed whereon it must expire,

[12]     Consumed with that which it was nourished by.

[13]     This thou perceiv’st, which makes thy love more strong,

[14]     To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

In short, the mutability of life is seen as a catastrophe and tragedy in Macbeth, whose life is marked by murder and usurping the crown. But in other circumstances, the brevity of life can be seen as a basis to better cherish and love the instant world.

In fact, he points to an even deeper reality, a truer life which stands behind the changeable play of this world.

Notes, Shakespeare Sonnet 12

04 Saturday Jan 2020

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1]         When I do count the clock that tells the time

[2]       And see the brave day sunk in hideous night,

[3]       When I behold the violet past prime

[4]       And sable curls  all silvered o’er with white;

[5]       When lofty trees I see barren of leaves,

[6]       Which erst from heat did canopy the herd,

[7]       And summer’s green all girded up in sheaves

[8]       Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard;

[9]       Then of thy beauty do I question make

[10]     That thou among the wastes of time must go,

[11]     Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake

[12]     And die as fast as they see others grow;

[13]     And nothing ’gainst Time’s scythe can make defense

[14]     Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence.

 

First Stanza

[1]       When I do count the clock that tells the time

[2]       And see the brave day sunk in hideous night,

[3]       When I behold the violet past prime

[4]       And sable curls all silvered o’er with white;

The matter of change, of mutability has been a theme of poets: although it is not a theme I see taken up much of late. The issue is one of change: how do we account for change? What does change mean? What can we do about change?

I don’t believe this theme has the same resonance of late, because we do not believe in any permanence. We are nominalist: there are no universals, no nature. Things are what they call them.

This has a cost: nothing can change, because nothing is something truly. This or that is only as much as I call it by name.

The matter of mutability is a question of why the particular fades from the essence, from the permanent form. That does not trouble us as it would have troubled a careful observer of Shakespeare’s time.

And so when he sees change: the clock face move, the night comes on, black hair turn white, he forces him to contemplate death (stanza three).

The phrase “hideous night” is a striking phrase: why hideous? It is only hideous as the best fades off to danger and death.

 

Second Stanza

[5]       When lofty trees I see barren of leaves,

[6]       Which erst from heat did canopy the herd,

[7]       And summer’s green all girded up in sheaves

[8]       Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard;

This is not quite a move to “nature”, but rather to living things. The first stanza concerns time, this concerns most particularly plants. It’s the end of Eden.

Trees become bare of leaves; and summer fields turn to a “white and bristly beard”.

It is an interesting image: summer is being borne out on a bier. This bearing summer out on a bier, no longer green by now with a “white and bristly beard” would have struck Shakespeare’s first readers more directly. The Golden Bough, by Frazer, provides numerous examples of folk festivals involving bringing in summer and taking out summer by means of some vegetation for the purpose of maintaining fertility.

These images become the basis for an encouragement of the object of the poem to himself be fertile.

Shakespeare takes the inherent purpose of the ancient rituals and uses them as a basis for encouraging the fertility of one.

 

Third Stanza

[9]       Then of thy beauty do I question make

[10]     That thou among the wastes of time must go,

[11]     Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake

[12]     And die as fast as they see others grow;

Death comes around constantly in this world. There is no manner of surviving return of winter but some new fertility.

I know that you will not last the winter: nothing does. There is only one answer to the winter, spring.

You, my friend will “among the wastes of time [] go”. Everything which is sweet and beautiful will be lost: that which is beautiful today will “die”. There is only one solution, new life (since the current life will not persist).

Couplet

 

[13]     And nothing ’gainst Time’s scythe can make defense

[14]     Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence.

 

The only thing which survives the winter is a new birth in Spring. There is nothing which survives the death of a man except a child.

 

Time comes like the “scythe” of harvest in autumn, to be followed by winter. Only the spring crop will survive the harvest and winter.

Notes Shakespeare Sonnet 11

28 Monday Oct 2019

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Sonnet 11:

[1]       As fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou grow’st

[2]       In one of thine, from that which thou departest;

[3]       And that fresh blood which youngly thou bestow’st

[4]       Thou mayst call thine when thou from youth convertest.

[5]       Herein lives wisdom, beauty, and increase;

[6]       Without this, folly, age, and cold decay.

[7]       If all were minded so, the times should cease,

[8]       And threescore year would make the world away.

[9]       Let those whom nature hath not made for store,

[10]     Harsh, featureless, and rude, barrenly perish;

[11]     Look whom she best endowed she gave the more,

[12]     Which bounteous gift thou shouldst in bounty cherish.

[13]     She carved thee for her seal, and meant thereby

[14]     Thou shouldst print more, not let that copy die.

Summary

Again, the poem contends for the object of the poem to marry and have children. The variant in this instance is that “nature” has given him something which has a duty to reproduce. It is a good to you and a proper response to what you have received. The poem works by means of balance and order.

First Stanza
[1]       As fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou grow’st

[2]       In one of thine, from that which thou departest;

[3]       And that fresh blood which youngly thou bestow’st

[4]       Thou mayst call thine when thou from youth convertest.

Even though Shakespeare writes well before Isaac Newton announcement of an “equal and opposite reaction”, he uses that idea of a balance in nature itself. The speed by which you should see to your reproduction is marked by the speed by which you are dying. You should be bringing a child into this world from which you are “departing.” Then as you are leaving youth, you can look back to your child who will be in youth while you are departing youth; he will then be in life, when you depart life. Thus this is a balance in speed and position.

Second Stanza:

[5]       Herein lives wisdom, beauty, and increase;

[6]       Without this, folly, age, and cold decay.

[7]       If all were minded so, the times should cease,

[8]       And threescore year would make the world away.

This stanza is evenly balanced between two pairs of line. First is the distinction between wisdom and folly; between increase and decay: to bear a child is wisdom, beauty and increase. To refuse this is “cold decay”.  If you will think of where he lives and the quality of insulation and clothing, you can understand why cold is a serious negative for Shakespeare. He lived during the “Little Ice Age” (look it up).

Shakespeare then notes the result of such an idea: If everyone thought as you did, then a short number of years, there would be no people left. Anti-natalism and the idea that human beings were someone unnatural and a blight upon the earth was obviously not a thought of Shakespeare.

Third Stanza:

[9]       Let those whom nature hath not made for store,

[10]     Harsh, featureless, and rude, barrenly perish;

[11]     Look whom she best endowed she gave the more,

[12]     Which bounteous gift thou shouldst in bounty cherish.

Perhaps there are people whom it would be best if they did not reproduce: “harsh, featureless, rude” should not have children. We will meet these monsters in Shakespeare’s plays.

But as for you: Nature has given to you the best, which entails in you a duty to reproduce that gift. You have a duty to “cherish” that “bounty” which was given to you.

Couplet

[13]     She carved thee for her seal, and meant thereby

[14]     Thou shouldst print more, not let that copy die.

“She” is nature: the seal she carved is the beauty of the poem’s object. A seal was used to produce a print: think a seal pressed into wax. The wax reproduces the seal. He was given the seal to print copies of that seal, not to permit that copy to cease with him.

The duty of marrying and having a child is a duty to nature. When a woman is pregnant or when we see a couple pushing their baby in a stroller, there is a sort of affinity which is different than when we are one alone. I noticed it often in my wife’s pregnancy, the way people who speak, the people who wished to see the baby. There is something lovely and joyous in that. It is that affinity which Shakespeare is seeking to awaken in his friend.

 

 

 

Shakespeare Sonnet 10, Notes

09 Wednesday Oct 2019

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[1]       For shame deny that thou bear’st love to any,

[2]       Who for thyself art so unprovident.

[3]       Grant, if thou wilt, thou art beloved of many,

[4]       But that thou none lov’st is most evident.

[5]       For thou art so possessed with murd’rous hate

[6]       That ’gainst thyself thou stick’st not to conspire,

[7]       Seeking that beauteous roof to ruinate

[8]       Which to repair should be thy chief desire.

[9]       O, change thy thought, that I may change my mind.

[10]     Shall hate be fairer lodged than gentle love?

[11]     Be as thy presence is, gracious and kind,

[12]     Or to thyself at least kind-hearted prove.

[13]     Make thee another self for love of me,

[14]     That beauty still may live in thine or thee.

 

Introduction:

This sonnet continues with the theme of the prior sonnets: a direct encouragement to marry and have children. As Benedick will say at the end of Much Ado About Nothing, “Prince, thou art sad. Get thee a wife, get thee a wife.”

The effect of these many sonnets seems to be the sort of work done by a composer who produces many “variations on a theme”. While it could be that Shakespeare really had some profound personal concern which drove these poems, they are much too clever. A series of poems working over a similar theme with both variety and continuity would be a bit of showing off by a young poet. I know others have their elaborate theories, but this theory at least runs true to life: young man wants to make a name for himself. That does not mean that there was no an actual recipient of the poems, only this extended theme looks like artistry. Other sonnets seem far more personal and autobiographical. But that is a question which cannot be answered.

Here the sonnet makes the argument in terms of love: You are loved by many; but you love none in return. In fact, you are filled with hate, both toward yourself and to others – because you don’t care what happens to yourself.

This really is not as much of a stretch as it might seem. A man who commits suicide when faced with financial ruin who leaves behind his wife and children acts in a way that does not care for his family. His self-directed concerns overweigh his duty and love to family. The way the event is experienced by others is as a kind of hate toward them: you don’t care what happens to us.

And so, Shakespeare pleads with the object of the poem: put aside your hatred for yourself and others; rather show love – at least toward me: marry and have a child.

First Stanza

[1]       For shame deny that thou bear’st love to any,

[2]       Who for thyself art so unprovident.

[3]       Grant, if thou wilt, thou art beloved of many,

[4]       But that thou none lov’st is most evident.

“For shame”: Because of shame. Example. The Geneva Bible notes for Psalm 44:15 (“All day long my disgrace is before me, and shame has covered my face”) read, “I dare not lift up mine head for shame.” Or Titus Adronicus, “Ah, now thou turn’st away thy face for shame.” But here it seems the tone seems more defiant, “I dare you to deny.” Shame, because you should love others.

The thought of lines 1-2, “You plainly don’t love others, because you are wasting yourself.” You are unprovident.

You are loved my many – you must admit that. But you don’t love anyone in return.

Most evident: beyond question. It’s obvious.

Second Stanza

[5]       For thou art so possessed with murd’rous hate

[6]       That ’gainst thyself thou stick’st not to conspire,

[7]       Seeking that beauteous roof to ruinate

[8]       Which to repair should be thy chief desire.

This is an interesting image: Your refusal to have an heir is “murd’rous hate”. It hate so extraordinary that is directed against yourself.

Thou stick’st not: you don’t hestitate

To conspire: with yourself to kill yourself.

You should be desiring to repair – reproduce – but you are bent on destroying: because death will destroy you. It is a “roof” perhaps because a family line is a “house”.

 

Third Stanza

[9]       O, change thy thought, that I may change my mind.

[10]     Shall hate be fairer lodged than gentle love?

[11]     Be as thy presence is, gracious and kind,

[12]     Or to thyself at least kind-hearted prove.

Line 9 is a very Shakespearean dual use of a single word: change. It is a clever line, but it is perhaps out of place in this stanza. The rest of the stanza takes a related but different emphasis: Your conduct in this respect should be as loving and gracious as it is otherwise.

“Fairer lodged”: better cared for as guest. Why do you provide more care for hatred than love?

And if you don’t care for others, at least care for yourself.

Couplet

[13]     Make thee another self for love of me,

[14]     That beauty still may live in thine or thee.

The poem ends with a final plea: If you can’t be persuaded to action for others; and if you don’t care what happens to yourself; at least you should act for me.

The last line also contains a misstep: That beauty still may live in thine: That is, that your beauty will continue in your progeny: “thine”, thy children. This concludes the argument of the poem.

But the final phrase “or thee” – needed for the rhyme — is contradicted by the thrust of the poem.  It is precisely because beauty will not live “in thee” that Shakespeare is pleading with him to marry.

 

 

Shakespeare Sonnet 9, Notes

27 Friday Sep 2019

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womanweep

(Weeping Woman, Pablo Picasso)

Is it for fear to wet a widow’s eye

That thou consum’st thyself 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.

 

 

Introduction

This poem continues the theme of the previous sonnets; namely, an encouragement to marry and have children. The return to the theme is here taken my means to two related metaphors. First, Shakespeare raises a potential objection: If you will not marry because you do not want to leave a widow who will weep at your death, you are wrong. Even if you do not leave a particular woman as your widow, you will leave the world as a widow. Moreover, even if you leave a widow, when you leave a child behind you leave a consolation for the widow. But if you die without children, you leave no solace to others.

Therefore, your objection does not really flow from a love of others. Instead, this waste of beauty, beauty which does not reproduce is really selfishness rather than selflessness.

First Stanza

[1]       Is it for fear to wet a widow’s eye

[2]       That thou consum’st thyself in single life?

[3]       Ah, if thou issueless shalt hap to die,

[4]       The world will wail thee like a makeless wife;

Is it really because you are afraid to leave a widow, that you are refusing to marry and have children? No.

Wet a widow: a useful example of alliteration: the repetition of the w’s draws the two words together in a single concept.

Raising the issue of selfishness, notice “thou consum’st thyself in single life”. You are devouring yourself by being single.

Issueless: without issue, without a child.

Hap: happenstance, luck.

Makeless: without a mate, spouse. And so, the world itself will weep just like a woman who has lost her husband (thus is makeless).

If you die without a wife, you still be mourned.

 

Second Stanza

[5]       The world will be thy widow and still weep

[6]       That thou no form of thee hast left behind,

[7]       When every private widow well may keep,

[8]       By children’s eyes, her husband’s shape in mind.

The first line ends with a double accent:  STILL WEEP. This double accent slows down the reading and creates an emphasis: weeping is unavoidable.

The sorrow will be that you have not left your “form” behind in a child.

Thus, the world will be worse off than an actual widow. A “private widow” will at least have a child in whom she can see her husband’s form. And by seeing the child, can keep her husband in mind. But you having left nothing make that impossible for all.

 

Third Stanza

[9]       Look what an unthrift in the world doth spend

[10]     Shifts but his place, for still the world enjoys it;

[11]     But beauty’s waste hath in the world an end,

[12]     And, kept unused, the user so destroys it.

An “unthrift” would be one who misuses money. To be thrifty is to take care with money.

SHIFTS but his PLACE: If a fool wastes all his money, it does not hurt the broader world, “for still the world enjoys it.” The world gets use of the money. The fool is the only one affected. He “shifts his place” in the world.

It is different if you destroy beauty. While the money remains in the world, beauty consumed disappears. If the user does not beget children, he “destroys” the beauty.

 

Couplet

[13]     No love toward others in that bosom sits

[14]     That on himself such murd’rous shame commits

The couplet returns to the ostensible objection raised in the first line. You claim that it is really “love” toward a potential widow that keeps you from marrying. I will not marry, because I don’t want to break a woman’s heart by dying. But that is not how the world works. You really do not love others by refusing to marry. You are simply murdering your own self, your beauty, your family that never is or will be; all in the name of trying to spare them.

 

Shakespeare’s Sonnet 8 Notes

17 Tuesday Sep 2019

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35044841056_0bc4d58947_o

Detail of “The Musicians” (about 1595) by Caravaggio

[1]      Music to hear, why hear’st thou music sadly?

[2]       Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy.

[3]       Why lov’st thou that which thou receiv’st not gladly,

[4]       Or else receiv’st with pleasure thine annoy?

[5]       If the true concord of well-tunèd sounds,

[6]       By unions married, do offend thine ear,

[7]       They do but sweetly chide thee, who confounds

[8]       In singleness the parts that thou shouldst bear.

[9]       Mark how one string, sweet husband to another,

[10]     Strikes each in each by mutual ordering,

[11]     Resembling sire and child and happy mother

[12]     Who, all in one, one pleasing note do sing;

[13]     Whose speechless song, being many, seeming one,

[14]     Sings this to thee: “Thou single wilt prove none.”

 

This sonnet continues the refrain, that it would be wrong to refrain from marriage and a child. Here, the overarching metaphor is the harmony of music. The object of the poem is hearing music, which should bring him pleasure; but the beautiful music is also unsettling him. Why? Because the music is a harmony of parts, a “marriage”, where one sound stands relation to the other sounds, like a husband and wife, like a father, mother and child. But the object, being single, cannot enjoy the harmony.

First Stanza

[1]       Music to hear, why hear’st thou music sadly?

[2]       Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy.

[3]       Why lov’st thou that which thou receiv’st not gladly,

[4]       Or else receiv’st with pleasure thine annoy?

 

The first two lines begin with an accented syllable:

MUSic to HEAR

SWEETS with SWEETS

The effect is to quickly demand the attention. It poses a question: Why does music sound unhappy to you? That does not make sense

Sweets with sweets war not – there is no discord in two sweet sounds.

Joy delights in joy.

Why is this music troubling you? Shakespeare is here mixing the themes of music and love. There is a missing pleasure in your hearing of this music.

Shakespeare will pick up this idea and develop as the introductory lines to the Twelfth Night:

If music be the food of love, play on;
Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die.
That strain again! it had a dying fall:
O, it came o’er my ear like the sweet sound,
That breathes upon a bank of violets,
Stealing and giving odour! Enough; no more:
‘Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
O spirit of love! how quick and fresh art thou,
That, notwithstanding thy capacity
Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there,
Of what validity and pitch soe’er,
But falls into abatement and low price,
Even in a minute: so full of shapes is fancy
That it alone is high fantastical.

There is the same receiving of music, and yet the troubled receiving. The Duke’s love both craves and is cannot bear the musick.

Second Stanza:

[5]       If the true concord of well-tunèd sounds,

[6]       By unions married, do offend thine ear,

[7]       They do but sweetly chide thee, who confounds

[8]       In singleness the parts that thou shouldst bear.

If there is a trouble in hearing the music, then the fault is not in the music, but in you who hear the music. The music is “true concord” and “well-tuned sounds”.  There is no fault described in the sound. But there is a fault somewhere, because sounds, “do offend thine ear”.

In the beginning of line 6, Shakespeare puns on the word “married” to introduce a new theme in this discussion of music and the pleasure in hearing music. The “true concord” of harmony is here said to be “unions married”.

The reason for the displeasure in the music is not in the music, but that the concord of the music “sweetly chide thee”. Why? Because being single, the harmony of parts, the marriage of the sounds beckons you to a similar marriage, but you are single.

There are endless speculations about the story behind these sonnets. But this particular sonnet seems to suggest a back story that Shakespeare is writing to someone who is hesitating at a marriage.

Third Stanza

[9]       Mark how one string, sweet husband to another,

[10]     Strikes each in each by mutual ordering,

[11]     Resembling sire and child and happy mother

[12]     Who, all in one, one pleasing note do sing;

In the third stanza, he speaks of the harmony brought about in the music by developing the sounds in terms of a family. One string is “sweet husband to another”. The musician strikes one string and then another, “by mutual ordering”. The concourse of the sounds creates a resemblance, as a sire and child and mother in order together bring about “one pleasing note”. The parts do all sing together to create beauty.

Couplet:

[13]     Whose speechless song, being many, seeming one,

[14]     Sings this to thee: “Thou single wilt prove none.”

The song is “speechless” because it is just music. The various notes are not many but “one”. And this harmony of notes without words is singing: If you will be single, you will be nothing.

Shakespeare Sonnet 7 (Notes)

14 Saturday Sep 2019

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Johann_Liss_006

 

The fall of Phaethon, Johann Liss,

[1]       Lo, in the orient when the gracious light

[2]       Lifts up his burning head, each under eye

[3]       Doth homage to his new-appearing sight,

[4]       Serving with looks his sacred majesty;

[5]       And having climbed the steep-up heavenly hill,

[6]       Resembling strong youth in his middle age,

[7]       Yet mortal looks adore his beauty still,

[8]       Attending on his golden pilgrimage.

[9]       But when from highmost pitch with weary car

[10]     Like feeble age he reeleth from the day,

[11]     The eyes, ’fore duteous, now converted are

[12]     From his low tract and look another way.

[13]     So thou, thyself outgoing in thy noon,

[14]     Unlooked on diest unless thou get a son.

 

This sonnet develops a central metaphor of the sun’s progress across the sky, which each successive stanza taking a different part of the day: morning, noon, afternoon. The progress of the sun is used a proxy for the progress of one’s life. At the end, the sun sets and life ends. From this metaphor, Shakespeare draws a conclusion, you will be like the sun after it has set if you do not have a son.

First Stanza

[1]      Lo, in the orient when the gracious light

[2]       Lifts up his burning head, each under eye

[3]       Doth homage to his new-appearing sight,

[4]       Serving with looks his sacred majesty;

 

The sun is developed in metaphoric language. In fact, Shakespeare never uses the

“sun” in the poem, apparently as a set up for the use of the word “son” in the final line.

 

The poem begins with “Lo” – Look! The rising sun draws all attention.

 

The sun rises in the “orient”, not the east. The orient, in Shakespeare time, was the land of magnificent treasure,

 

He kissed—the last of many doubled kisses—

(FTLN 0557)      [47]     This orient pearl.

 

 

Antony and Cleopatra Act I, Scene

After this, he was taken out of his chaire of Majestie, having upon him an upper robe adorned with precious stones of all sorts, orient pearles of great quantitie, but alwayes augmented in riches: it was in waight two hundred pounds, the traine, and parts thereof borne up by 6. Dukes, his chiefe imperiall Crowne upon his head very precious:

Richard Hakluyt, The Principal Navigations, Voyages, Traffiques, and Discoveries of the English Nation Made by Sea or Overland to the Remote & Farthest Distant Quarters of the Earth at Any Time within the Compasse of These 1600 Yeares, vol. 2 (Medford, MA: E. P. Dutton & Co., n.d.), 271.

The sun gives a “gracious light” and “Lifts up his burning head”. The sun is a colossus which rises over the landscape. His light is gracious – he is a king. And the response is the response to a king:

 

each under eye

[3]       Doth homage to his new-appearing sight,

[4]       Serving with looks his sacred majesty

 

All pay “homage” and do so by looking upon the “sacred majesty”.

 

Second Stanza

[5]       And having climbed the steep-up heavenly hill,

[6]       Resembling strong youth in his middle age,

[7]       Yet mortal looks adore his beauty still,

[8]       Attending on his golden pilgrimage.

 

The second stanza develops the image of the sun. He shows his strength by climginb up the “steep” “heavenly hill” of the sky. He power is such that even in middle age he has the beauty of youth. And he continues to receive homage by “mortal looks” which now “adore his beauty still”.

He progress is a “golden pilgrimage” which the mortals “attend” to.

Third Stanza

[9]       But when from highmost pitch with weary car

[10]     Like feeble age he reeleth from the day,

[11]     The eyes, ’fore duteous, now converted are

[12]     From his low tract and look another way.

At this point, the imagery of the sun shifts in two ways. First, it concerns the sun’s decline. Second, the sun is no longer climbing himself but now is in a car; which reminds us of  Phaethon who attempted to drive the chariot of the sun but veered wildly out of control and brought the sun too near the earth. 

Shakespeare does not make that precise point, but does allude to one who is too weak to control the sun.

But when from highmost pitch with weary car

[10]     Like feeble age he reeleth from the day,

At the height of trip, the sun in weakness: weary car, feeble age, reelth, loses control and the sun falls from the sky. Seemingly in the height of power, the sun is actually grown week.

And the response of the mortals is no longer to look but now to look-away:

[11]     The eyes, ’fore duteous, now converted are

[12]     From his low tract and look another way.

The language of homage and adoration, part kingly, part religious returns. The eyes no longer perform “duty” (like a subject). The mortals are “now converted.” With the swings in Shakespeare’s day between Roman Catholicism and Protestantism would have shown many “conversions”, thus, the language would have resonance.

The moral is obvious: you are beautiful now, but soon you will be weakened, your beauty gone – you will be like the falling sun where all look away.

 

Couplet

[13]     So thou, thyself outgoing in thy noon,

[14]     Unlooked on diest unless thou get a son.

The metaphor is drawn tight: you are like the sun. Yes you are at noon, but noon does not last. Everyone will look away from you in your age and weakness, “unless thou get a son”. The use of the “son” in the last syllable is purposeful, because he has studiously avoided the word “sun” throughout the poem.

You will fail like a failing “sun” unless you get a “son” – who himself be a new “sun.”

Some observations on Shakespeare Sonnet 6 (“Make worms thine heir”)

07 Saturday Sep 2019

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[1] Then let not winter’s ragged hand deface
[2] In thee thy summer ere thou be distilled.
[3] Make sweet some vial; treasure thou some place
[4] With beauty’s treasure ere it be self-killed.
[5] That use is not forbidden usury
[6] Which happies those that pay the willing loan;
[7] That’s for thyself to breed another thee,
[8] Or ten times happier, be it ten for one.
[9] Ten times thyself were happier than thou art
[10] If ten of thine ten times refigured thee;
[11] Then what could death do if thou shouldst depart,
[12] Leaving thee living in posterity?
[13] Be not self-willed, for thou art much too fair
[14] To be death’s conquest and make worms thine heir.
This sonnet picks up immediately upon the imagery of the preceding sonnet: summer must be “distilled” to last into the winter. It also picks up on the general theme of this series of sonnets, in calling upon the object of the poem to have a child. The distinction in this sonnet is in its monetary/investment imagery. The child is seen as an investment and an inheritance.

First Stanza
[1] Then let not winter’s ragged hand deface
[2] In thee thy summer ere thou be distilled.
[3] Make sweet some vial; treasure thou some place
[4] With beauty’s treasure ere it be self-killed.

You will die. Winter will kill, or you will kill yourself (in killing your own beauty)

Winter is an actor who will deface your summer (your beauty, your youth). The language of “deface” puts an emphasis upon appearance rather than existence. Winter is vengeance that will come and will deface you. The fact of winter’s work is not question. Winter’s existence gives intensity and necessity to the task at hand:

When winter has come, it will be too late. Therefore, you must now distill you beauty, make a vial of this perfume of beauty (have a child)

Ere: before, archaic.

The poet uses treasure as a noun and a verb: first, “treasure thou some place”: make a place where treasure is kept. In your treasure, place your treasure.

In speaking of coming age taking away your treasure, you do not treasure your Shakespeare uses an idea which he will develop elsewhere; such as in Sonnet 75, “Doubting the filching age will steal his treasure”

Second Stanza
[5] That use is not forbidden usury
[6] Which happies those that pay the willing loan;
[7] That’s for thyself to breed another thee,
[8] Or ten times happier, be it ten for one.

Usury is charging interest on a loan. The legal conception is with us in the principle limiting the amount of interest one charge for a loan. The line contains a fine pun on “use” and “usury” must like treasure and treasure in the preceding stanza.

It is not an illegal act when you make a loan which causes happiness (“Happies”) in the one who pay the loan.

It is not wrong to lend yourself to the future when you willing to do so. In fact, the return you make on making this loan will exceed any cost. In fact, you will receive a ten-to-one return on bearing a child.

Third Stanza
[9] Ten times thyself were happier than thou art
[10] If ten of thine ten times refigured thee;
[11] Then what could death do if thou shouldst depart,
[12] Leaving thee living in posterity?

A desire for happiness routinely controls our decisions: it keeps us from acting and causes us to act. We value our own happiness.

So in this stanza the controlling concept is no longer interest on a loan, it is return on our action: this will pay us back in happiness.

Now we are back to the image of “winter” here called “death”.

Death obviously cannot cause you injury if you have left and are beyond death’s action “if thou shouldst depart”. The idea here is that once you have departed you are in fact dead.

The conception comes from Romans 7 where Paul explains that that the law (and death is the sergeant who enforces the law of God):

Romans 7:1–3 (ESV)
7 Or do you not know, brothers—for I am speaking to those who know the law—that the law is binding on a person only as long as he lives? 2 For a married woman is bound by law to her husband while he lives, but if her husband dies she is released from the law of marriage. 3 Accordingly, she will be called an adulteress if she lives with another man while her husband is alive. But if her husband dies, she is free from that law, and if she marries another man she is not an adulteress.

Death can only enforce its demands on you so far. But there is a way to surpass death.

Shakespeare takes this idea and applies it to children: if you have a child, you have (in a manner) bypassed death.
Couplet
[13] Be not self-willed, for thou art much too fair
[14] To be death’s conquest and make worms thine heir.

The trouble which will destroy the object is his own pride: Be not self-willed.

Why should you not be so? You are too fair.

You must face this truth: you will die. Do not be conquered by death.

The poem end with a certain irony: if you do not have heir by birth, you will have an heir death. But this heir will not save you from death but will rather make you a prey to death. And thus, you will have an heir and you have face death.

This image of worms is used to good effect in Hamlet, where Hamlet speaks with the King about the King’s counselor – whom Hamlet has just killed:

Now, Hamlet, where’s Polonius?
At supper king
At supper where?
Not where he eats, but where he is eaten. A
certain convocation of politic worms are e’en at
him. Your worm is your only emperor for diet. We
fat all creatures else to fat us, and we fat ourselves
for maggots. Your fat king and your lean beggar is
but variable service—two dishes but to one table.
That’s the end.
A man may fish with the worm that hath eat
of a king and eat of the fish that hath fed of that
worm.

The imagery of worms puts a certain bite upon the concept of death. The idea of “death”. One’s own death is an abstraction: but to make it concrete, the idea of one’s body being eaten makes death a more “real” thing.

Shakespeare Sonnet 5, Walls of Glass

31 Saturday Aug 2019

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(Photo Courtesy of Jenni Sweat, Flickr)

 [1]      Those hours that with gentle work did frame

[2]       The lovely gaze where every eye doth dwell

[3]       Will play the tyrants to the very same

[4]       And that unfair which fairly doth excel;

[5]       For never-resting time leads summer on

[6]       To hideous winter and confounds him there,

[7]       Sap checked with frost and lusty leaves quite gone,

[8]       Beauty o’er-snowed and bareness everywhere.

[9]       Then, were not summer’s distillation left

[10]     A liquid prisoner pent in walls of glass,

[11]     Beauty’s effect with beauty were bereft,

[12]     Nor it nor no remembrance what it was.

[13]     But flowers distilled, though they with winter meet,

[14]     Leese but their show; their substance still lives sweet.

 

First Stanza: The Promised Reversal

This sonnet raises a variant on the theme of the need for beauty to make itself again in a child. In the first sonnet, the world as a whole will be the less. In the second sonnet, a child is promised as a comfort (“And see thy blood warm when thou feel’st it cold.”). In the third sonnet, after death, there will be no remembrance of you. In the fourth sonnet, the loss is to nature. All of these losses are abstracted from the object of the sonnet: the world will be the less. Here in the fifth, the certain reversal of beauty is promised (unless preserved).

[1]       Those hours that with gentle work did frame

[2]       The lovely gaze where every eye doth dwell

[3]       Will play the tyrants to the very same

[4]       And that unfair which fairly doth excel;

The lines are bit cryptic: The first question is what sort of “work” was done to “frame/The lovely gaze”? It could potentially be the work of gestation, or the act of growing up: “the lovely gaze where eye doth dwell” could refer to the visage of the object of the poem.  But the “lovely gaze” could also refer to the act of gazing by third parties: the work is the fact of others looking upon the object.

The answer to the question depends upon the identity of the “tyrants.” If “lovely gaze” is the visage (the thing gazed upon), then the “tyrants” are the hours of work: All the life which at first worked to create your beauty will in the end turn upon you and become the hours of pain.

If the “lovely gaze” is the gaze of third persons, then the tyrants are those observers, those who look upon the beauty. An argument could be made for both positions: and such a purposeful ambiguity is the sort of complexity which makes Shakespeare fascinating. The ambiguity is more than just a clever wordplay; the ambiguity draws the subjective beauty and the objective admiration into a union of parts which each hangs upon the other.

I think the weight leans to the visage, because it makes more sense to spend “gentle hours” upon the creation of a visage rather than the creation of a gaze. But living in a fame and appearance obsessed world, the idea of hours being spent in the creation of a gaze makes sense: the beauty is not just there in the object, the beauty is in the relationship to those who gaze upon it.

The last line then promises the reversal: The beauty – “fair” – will become ugly; the exceeding of the “fair” will have a balanced and equivalent fall. But again, the admiration of the world can quickly turn to distain. You see, both readings make good sense of the lines.

Second Stanza: The Mechanics of the Fall

[5]       For never-resting time leads summer on

[6]       To hideous winter and confounds him there,

[7]       Sap checked with frost and lusty leaves quite gone,

[8]       Beauty o’er-snowed and bareness everywhere.

In this stanza, time is made out to be a robber who leads a naïve summer into the dangerous alley of “hideous winter”, summer is dry-gulched by time. Time will “confound”, that is ruin, the beauty of summer. This image of  time “confounding” beauty is used elsewhere by Shakespeare: Sonnet 60, line 8, “And Time that gave doth now his gift confound.” Sonnet 63, line 10, “Against confounding age’s cruel knife.”

The use of confound in this manner was contemporaneous to Shakespeare. The Geneva Bible, has the line, “Let them be confounded & put to shame, that seke my soule: let them be turned backewarde and put to rebuke, that desire mine hurt.” Ps. 70:2.

The beauty of summer’s growth (“lusty leaves”) will be “quite gone” and covered in snow.

There is an interesting use of the word “lusty” in contradistinction to an eventual reversal:

HOW DOCTOR FAUSTUS COMPLAYNED THAT HEE SHOULD IN HIS LUSTY TIME AND YOUTHFUL YEARES DIE SO MISERABLY. CHAP. 59.

THis sorrowfull time drawing neere so troubled Doctor Faustus, that he began to write his minde, to the ende he might peruse it often and not forget it and is in maner as followeth.

Ah Faustus, thou sorrowful and wofull man, now must thou goe to the damned company in vnquenchable fire, whereas thou mightest haue had the ioyfull immortalitie of the soule, the which thou now hast lost. Ah grosse vnderstanding and wilfull will, what seazeth on my limmes other than a robbing of my life’: Bewayle with me my sound & healthfull body,

wit and soule, bewayle with me my sences, for you haue had your part and pleasure as well as I. Oh enuie and disdaine, how haue you crept both at once into me, and now for your sakes I must suffer all these torments? Ah whither is pitie and mercy fled’: Vpon what occasion hath heauen repayed me with this reward by sufferance to suffer me to perish Wherefore was I created a man’: The punishment that I see prepared for me of my selfe now must I suffer. Ah miserable wretch, there is nothing in this world to shew me comfort: then woe is me, what helpeth my wayling.

Faust Book (Medford, MA: Perseus Digital Library, 5/12/97). The Faust Book was published in Germany in 1587 and was soon translated into English, were it apparently became the basis of Marlowe’s play by that name.

Third Stanza: Beauty’s Potential Preservation

[9]       Then, were not summer’s distillation left

[10]     A liquid prisoner pent in walls of glass,

[11]     Beauty’s effect with beauty were bereft,

[12]     Nor it nor no remembrance what it was.

The “distillation” of summer would be some sort of perfume: some liquid distillation of the summer kept in a bottle (walls of glass). Thus, in Cymbeline, the Queen says:

                                    I wonder, doctor,

Thou ask’st me such a question. Have I not been

Thy pupil long? Hast thou not learned me how

To make perfumes, distil, preserve—yea, so

That our great king himself doth woo me oft For

For my confections?

Act I, scene 5. The perfume has an effect upon desire.

Here, without such a perfume summer’s beauty will have no further effect. Thus, the effect of beauty is short-lived. It is a summer thing soon to be ruined by the great bandit time.

The poem is a sort of response to youth’s belief that it will never fail; that time will never come for me.

The Couplet: The Preservation of Beauty

[13]     But flowers distilled, though they with winter meet,

[14]     Leese but their show; their substance still lives sweet.

Here Shakespeare does something interesting: In the beginning “beauty” is all in the “gaze”, it is something developed and shown; beauty is scene. Then by the image of “distillation”, he transforms the concept of beauty into something separate from bare appearance. There is a “show” of beauty and the “substance” of beauty.

 

If summer beauty is distilled, its substance will preserved despite time, being kept in “walls of glass”. Yes, flowers who come to winter “leese [lose] their show [appearance].” Yet, even though appearance is lost; the substance is maintained. In fact it not merely persists it “still lives sweet”.

 

The image pushed back into reality means that while you cannot stop time from ruing your physical beauty; the true substance of your, which is a substance in life, can be preserved by a child who carries the beauty into the future.

Shakespeare Sonnet 4

21 Wednesday Aug 2019

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[1]       Unthrifty loveliness, why dost thou spend

[2]       Upon thyself thy beauty’s legacy?

[3]       Nature’s bequest gives nothing but doth lend,

[4]       And being frank, she lends to those are free.

[5]       Then, beauteous niggard, why dost thou abuse

[6]       The bounteous largess given thee to give?

[7]       Profitless usurer, why dost thou use

[8]       So great a sum of sums yet canst not live?

[9]       For, having traffic with thyself alone,

[10]     Thou of thyself thy sweet self dost deceive.

[11]     Then how, when nature calls thee to be gone,

[12]     What acceptable audit canst thou leave?

[13]     Thy unused beauty must be tombed with thee,

[14]     Which usèd lives th’ executor to be.

 

 

First stanza:

[1]       Unthrifty loveliness, why dost thou spend

[2]       Upon thyself thy beauty’s legacy?

[3]       Nature’s bequest gives nothing but doth lend,

[4]       And being frank, she lends to those are free.

 

The first two lines set up the basic conceit of the poem: the proper investment of human beauty. The argument of this poem is profoundly countercultural to present moment. Our lives are considered our own to dispose of as we each individually please (“it’s my life and I’ll do what I want”).

We can choose our own identity to the point of actual restructuring our bodies and changing our sex in the name of gender identity.

The arguments of sexual freedom in all its related issues ultimately rest upon the proposition of a profound human autonomy in the area of sexual practice (it is interesting that the very same people most insistent upon radical sexual freedom are the most insistent upon conformity in other aspects).

Here Shakespeare attacks an “unthrifty loveliness”: beauty being wasted, misspent. It is misspent because it devolves back upon the self: why dost thou spend/Upon thyself thy beauty’s legacy”. This continues the thematic strand from the other sonnets on the aspect of humanity being one of continuity and unity: there is the lineal descent from and hopefully through the object of the poem; as well as the duty to, the unity with the rest of humanity.

Thus, there is something anti-human, something unnatural in seeking to spend one’s beauty on one’s self.

The autonomy of the self is further attacked by positing in relation to nature: Your beauty does not come from you: it has been lent to you by nature to used rightly:

Nature’s bequest gives nothing but doth lend,/And being frank, she lends to those are free.

You have been given something you did not earn: it was lent to you by nature (and nature ultimately leads to God).

The last concept “those are free”: not horders, move the conceit to the next stanza.

 

Second stanza:

[5]       Then, beauteous niggard, why dost thou abuse

[6]       The bounteous largess given thee to give?

[7]       Profitless usurer, why dost thou use

[8]       So great a sum of sums yet canst not live?

This stanza then argues to the paradox of selfishness. You are given a great deal, but you hoard it (“niggard”); and in so doing abuse the wealth you were given. In fact, you are a usurer – which would normally result in a tremendous profit to the usurer, but in this case, it creates no profit. The irony of your hoarding is that are losing what you are hoarding: it does you no good to hoard this beauty, because not only is it unnatural and unhuman, it does you positive harm.

Compare this concept with the idea in our culture who refuses children because it will interfere with career or beauty? The one who spends the beauty youth on one’s own desire is an ideal. It is foolish to plunge into the great stream of human history: nothing is owed to the past or to the future. In fact, to bear children is either foolishness or evil.

So here is Shakespeare, a paragon of culture: here speaking directly against our current culture.

Third stanza:

[9]       For, having traffic with thyself alone,

[10]     Thou of thyself thy sweet self dost deceive.

[11]     Then how, when nature calls thee to be gone,

[12]     What acceptable audit canst thou leave?

The final stanza turns to death: because sex and death are profoundly related and in direct competition. Birth is a race against death, and there is no ultimate Darwinian advancement. Death always works.

And so to the object: you are engaged in commerce, trade (traffic here means trade), but there is no other in your trade. You are seller and buyer, but is so doing, you are ultimately hurting yourself the most. You are deceiving yourself.

This then comes to judgment: when you die, what will be the profit of this life? You have done nothing.

Here, Shakespeare becomes even more counter cultural: not only is birth incumbent upon human beings, but without such birth, what have you actually done? What have you done to perpetuate life?

At this point, I think a word of kindness is appropriate. Many people through no fault of their own are unable to bear children. Shakespeare is not speaking to them. This is to one who is deliberately selfish. Shakespeare’s critique is of a self-centeredness which is far different than inability.

Moreover, even though it goes beyond scope of this narrow poem, it should also be known that Shakespeare world would have deep biblical roots, even among the less devoted. Shakespeare’s use of the Bible has been well documented. There are biblical promises to those without children:

Isaiah 56:4–5 (ESV)

4           For thus says the Lord:

“To the eunuchs who keep my Sabbaths,

who choose the things that please me

and hold fast my covenant,

5           I will give in my house and within my walls

a monument and a name

better than sons and daughters;

I will give them an everlasting name

that shall not be cut off.

 

And:

Isaiah 54:1 (ESV)

54 “Sing, O barren one, who did not bear;

break forth into singing and cry aloud,

you who have not been in labor!

For the children of the desolate one will be more

than the children of her who is married,” says the Lord.

The application of these passages being beyond the scope of this piece, I will not explain them beyond just point to the fact of such ideas in Shakespeare’s world.

Couplet

[13]     Thy unused beauty must be tombed with thee,

[14]     Which usèd lives th’ executor to be.

Your beauty will be buried. The final line means that if you used your beauty, it would remain behind to be your executor: If your beauty were used it would be your executor and deliver your estate to another.

But there may be an irony here (the line contains some ambiguity): It may be possible to read the final line as the tomb – which are are in fact using – is the only thing which lives and is your executor: delivering to your death your beauty.