SONNETCAST – William Shakespeare's Sonnets Recited, Revealed, Relived

Sonnet 86 is the last of the Rival Poet group of sonnets, and it gives a final reason why William Shakespeare has, as he himself put it in Sonnet 85, become tongue-tied and been unable to express himself adequately in his praise of the young lover. Together with Sonnet 80 it bookends the group-within-a-group consisting of Sonnets 82 to 85 which together make an elaborate argument in Shakespeare's defence and connecting, as it does, with the theme of seafaring and relaunching the metaphor of a sailing vessel, Sonnet 86 draws a direct link not only to the imagery of Sonnet 80, but also its tonality, which is decidedly distinct from that of the sonnets so bracketed. Both, this much more suggestive tone and the thematic reference to Sonnet 80, as well as the on its own somewhat perplexing conclusion Sonnet 85 had come to, will help us greatly in our understanding of this heavily laden and layered poem.

With Sonnet 85, William Shakespeare concludes the group-within-a-group of four sonnets that concern themselves with his own defence against the charge – evidently levied by his young lover – that his poetry is lacking in lavish expressions of praise and that 'imputes', as Shakespeare himself calls it in Sonnet 83, his silence, or, as it should more accurately be described, comparative silence, as a sin. Here, Shakespeare rounds off his main argument, giving as the reason for this 'silence' simply decorum – good manners – and suggesting that while he can agree with all the praise heaped on the young man by other poets – for which here again we can assume he means principally one other poet – discretion demands that he remain silent and allow for his actions to express his genuine love for him better than words.

With Sonnet 84, William Shakespeare continues and underpins his defence of himself against the charge, referenced explicitly in Sonnet 83, that he has failed to present his young lover with sufficiently effusive praise and instead remained silent about his unparalleled qualities: not only is it the case – as he told the young man there – that you do not need 'painting' in elaborate words since these words, no matter how they try, can never actually do you justice, but in fact the greatest compliment anyone can pay you, this sonnet now postulates, is that you are exactly as you are: what a poet really needs to do is bring out the essence in you, and if he succeeds in this, then and only then can he truly lay a claim to fame as a writer. And more true to his word than perhaps his argument sets out to be, Shakespeare closes this sonnet with his strongest rebuke of the young man since Sonnet 69, but unlike there, he doesn't follow this with a hasty absolution, but with one more poem to drive home his point...

Sonnet 83 picks up on the notion, introduced in Sonnet 82, of a 'gross painting' in words that other poets make of the young man with the 'strained touches' that rhetoric can lend them, in stark contrast to Shakespeare's own 'plain true words'. But rather than forming a contained pair with Sonnet 82, it spins the argument further, now giving his reasons for not doing what other poets pursue, namely the fanciful portrayal of the young man in the most elaborate and fashionable language available at the time. Shakespeare then continues to build on this for another two sonnets, to effectively create a group within a group that follows one continuous thread right through to and including Sonnet 85, before he then ends the Rival Poet sequence on an astonishing flourish with Sonnet 86.

With Sonnet 82, William Shakespeare resumes his discussion with the young man of his own status as a poet in the young man's life, attempting a conciliatory, even sympathetic tone which purports to encourage his lover to by all means have a look at other people's writing too, but draws the clearest distinction yet in this group between the authentic nature of his own writing and the soulless artifice of his rivals, whom he here once more speaks of in a generalised plural. The sonnet can stand on its own, but it sets up an argument that is then picked up by Sonnet 83 – where he again will make it clear that there is really one rival involved – and continues right into Sonnets 84 and 85 which all concern themselves with the young man's increasingly evident expectation to receive poetry that presents him in a particular light and that – as we would say today – ticks certain boxes: a requirement that Shakespeare feels unable to fulfil in the manner that others appear willing to comply with.

Sonnet 81, although it appears right in the middle of the Rival Poet group of sonnets, does not concern itself with any poet other than Shakespeare at all, and so it either marks a detour deliberately taken by Shakespeare from his preoccupation with his rival, or it presents an instance in which a sonnet has in fact slipped from its position and been mislaid here accidentally. On the surface, it doesn't do anything other sonnets have not done before: it promises and predicts an everlasting memorial to the young man in the form of itself – the poetry that Shakespeare composes for him – while downplaying the role of the poet in creating such a literary monument, and anticipating, wrongly as it turns out, that Shakespeare himself, unlike his young lover, the subject of the poem, will be entirely forgotten. The imagery and vocabulary it employs are so unusual though that they make us wonder whether there isn't more going on here than meets the eye.

With his amazingly brazen Sonnet 80, William Shakespeare metaphorically pushes the boat out in more sense than one and comes close to mocking not only his rival, but also – albeit gently – his young lover whom he insinuates being drawn to this other writer not only by his compelling poetry but by a prowess of an altogether more physical nature too. The poem, for all its theatricality on the one hand and its finely layered wit on the other, still ends on a pensive, even melancholy and for this quite devastating note of self-awareness.

With Sonnet 79, William Shakespeare continues his lament, begun with Sonnet 78, that he no longer enjoys the exclusive privilege of writing poetry to and for his young lover, constructing an – objectively speaking fairly tenuous – argument why the young man should not be overly grateful to this Rival Poet for his efforts. With a transactional tone taking over the second half of the sonnet, it pushes our perception further towards a possibility that Shakespeare is losing not only the appreciation and affection of his young lover but also his patronage, which, if the case, would possibly have serious implications in terms of his financial and social status.

Sonnet 78 is the first in a group of nine sonnets that concern themselves almost entirely with the apparent arrival on the scene of someone else who is now writing poetry for Shakespeare's young lover, vying for his attention and possibly obtaining his patronage, which is why these poems are collectively known as the Rival Poet Sonnets. Strictly speaking, Sonnet 81 does not mention this rival and could therefore in theory be excluded from the group, but as it sits where it does and, like the others, talks about Shakespeare's own poetic powers, it is generally accepted as part of it. Sonnet 78 also happens to mark the beginning of the second half of the collection of 154 sonnets originally published in 1609, and thus ushers in a major new phase in the numbered sequence, although whether or not this is deliberate, we cannot tell. What we do know from this sonnet and its companions is that here begins a whole new crisis for William Shakespeare, which will have a profound and lasting effect on him and his relationship with the young man.

This special episode summarises what we have learnt so far from the first 77 sonnets by William Shakespeare. It recaps the principal pointers that allow us to put together a profile of the young man they were written for or about and outlines the phases of his relationship with our poet, and it also dismantles some of the misconceptions that are sometimes put forward when discussing these poems, especially in relation to potential addressees.

The curiously didactic Sonnet 77 marks the halfway point of the collection of 154 sonnets contained in the 1609 Quarto Edition and it stands out for several reasons. What most immediately catches the eye is that it seems to be written into or so as to accompany a book of empty pages for its recipient to collect their thoughts and notes in a book of commonplaces, as would have been widely in use at the time. And owing to its tone, it does pose the question whether it is in fact addressed to the same young man as the other sonnets in this large group known as the Fair Youth Sonnets, and if it is, whether it finds itself sequentially in the right place.

The deceptively unsensational Sonnet 76 asks a simple question and provides to this a straightforward enough answer that will hardly come as a surprise: how is it that I write one sonnet after another and they all sound the same? Because "I always write of you."  With this one declaration it settles a debate that – in view of its very existence bafflingly – has more recently reappeared in scholarly circles: are these sonnets, such as we have them in the collection originally published in the Quarto Edition of 1609, addressed to or written about principally one person, or could they not also have been composed in the context of a whole raft of relationships over a much longer period than has generally been assumed?

Sonnet 75 marks a moment of comparative calm in the turbulent relationship between William Shakespeare and his young lover. With its sober assessment of a continuously conflicted world of emotions that oscillate between abundant joy at being allowed to bask in the presence of the young man and utter dejection at missing him when he is absent, the sonnet seems to reconcile its poet with the reality of loving a person who is, in matters of the heart and most likely others too, a law unto himself.

Sonnet 74 continues the argument from Sonnet 73, and now reflects on what will happen when I, the poet, William Shakespeare, am dead. My body will be buried and return to earth, but my spirit will live on in this poetry that I write for you, the young man, which is why the loss you experience at my death will be insignificant: it only entails my passing physical presence, not my essence. In this, the poem proves prophetic not only in relation to the young lover, but also in relation to the world as a whole, since we still very much possess the spirit of William Shakespeare in his writing, and it also flatly contradicts his own pronouncements made in the pair just preceding this one, Sonnets 71 & 72, in which he – somewhat disingenuously we thought then – presented his poetry as something that is supposed to be 'nothing worth'.

Sonnet 73 is the first in a second pair of poems to meditate on the poet's age and mortality and to reflect on the point of his very existence. But while Sonnets 71 & 72 focus on Shakespeare's reputation, which he perceives as poor and which he fears might also tarnish the young man were he to show his love and mourning for Shakespeare after his death, Sonnet 73 concentrates on the wondrous realisation – or possibly hope – that in spite of Shakespeare's age and his approaching what he believes to be his twilight years, the young man not only continues to love him, but appears to appreciate both the need and the opportunity to do so before they must eventually part.

Sonnet 72 picks up on Sonnet 71 and explains why the supposedly 'wise' world would look down on the young man for having loved or for still loving Shakespeare after his death and why he should therefore forget him and allow the poet's name to pass into oblivion, along with his decomposing body in the grave. The sonnet reinforces and intensifies the sense that Shakespeare is or certainly feels unappreciated by the world around him, as he here speaks not only of being 'mocked' by people, but in fact shamed by the work he himself produces.  

Sonnet 71 is the first in a pair of poems which purport to urge the young man to forget the author after his death so as to spare him – the young man – any embarrassment or indeed mockery that having loved or still caring for the then deceased poet might cause him. Both sonnets, but Sonnet 71 in particular, strike an ironic tone, which nevertheless seems founded in an unease on Shakespeare's part about his own reputation and standing in the world. Sonnet 71 thus ushers in a short sequence consisting of this couple of sonnets and the following one, Sonnets 73 & 74, which all concern themselves with William Shakespeare's increasingly strong sense of his mortality and the question of what meaning his life may have in the context of his love for the young man.

With Sonnet 70, William Shakespeare once more performs the poetic equivalent of a handbrake turn and swivels what we thought we could understand from Sonnet 69 around 180 degrees to race headlong in the opposite direction. The charge levied against his young lover – that with his conduct he has been allowing himself to become 'common' and thus acquire a reputation way beneath his supposedly exalted status – is here lifted, and any such insinuation summarily dismissed as slander, prompting us primarily to wonder: why? What is causing the accusations against the young man in the first place and what then brings about this virtuoso ventriloquy?

Taken on its own, Sonnet 69 presents a devastating indictment of William Shakespeare's young lover. Its uncompromising juxtaposition of the young man's universally acknowledged beauty against his reputedly flawed character would be enough to put into question whether Shakespeare can still feel at all devoted to him: by itself, the poem is nothing short of shocking. But while it can absolutely stand on its own and nothing within it suggests that the point Shakespeare sets out to make has not been made and the argument he is pursuing not resolved, it is then followed by Sonnet 70 which appears to directly pick up on the charges levied against the young man and equally forcefully defends him against any wrongdoing. The pair thus opens the widest and therefore most dynamic space of tension between two linked sonnets we have yet come across, and it poses further urgent questions about what is happening in the lives of William Shakespeare and his lover, and in their relationship.

Sonnet 68 continues the argument from Sonnet 67 and shifts the focus of Shakespeare's opprobrium from the fashion for heavy make-up to that for wearing wigs, a practice by him equally abhorred. Unlike Sonnet 67, Sonnet 68 seems to be virtually devoid of any puns or double meanings that would resonate with us, and so although these two sonnets come as a closely linked pair in which the general note of dismay struck previously with Sonnet 66 continues to reverberate all the way through, Sonnet 68 nevertheless presents an entity of its own that in some respects appears to contrast, so as not to say contradict, Sonnet 67: if Sonnet 67 gave us an at least underlying sense of unease about the young man's own conduct, Sonnet 68 does nothing of the sort and simply holds him up as a flawless example of natural beauty.