The Place 2 Be

Critique of Sonnet 24
SHAKESPEARE’S SONNETS


Mine eye hath played the painter, and hath steeled
Thy beauty's form in table of my heart.
My body is the frame wherein 'tis held,
And perspective it is best painter's art;


For through the painter must you see his skill
To find where your true image pictured lies,
Which in my bosom's shop is hanging still,
That hath his windows glazed with thine eyes.


Now see what good turns eyes for eyes have done:
Mine eyes have drawn thy shape, and thine for me
Are windows to my breast, wherethrough the sun
Delights to peep, to gaze therein on thee.


Yet eyes this cunning want to grace their art:
They draw but what they see, know not the heart.


Compare Constable's Sonnet 9 (1592):

Thine eye the glass where I behold my heart,
Mine eye the window, through the which thine eye
May see my heart, and there thy self espy
In bloody colours how thou painted art.
Thine eye the pyle is of a murdering dart,
Mine the sight thou tak'st thy level by
To hit my heart, and never shoots awry;
Mine eye thus helps thine eye to work my smart.
Thine eye a fire is both in heat and light,
Mine eye of tears a river doth become:
Oh that the water of mine eye had might
To quench the flames that from thine eyes do come,
Or that the fire kindled by thine eye
The flowing streams of mine eyes could make dry.



Home

Critical text © NigelDavies.home@Virgin.net


1