The Place 2 Be

Critique of Sonnet 2
SHAKESPEARE’S SONNETS

When forty winters shall besiege thy brow
And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field,
Thy youth's proud livery, so gazed on now,
Will be a tattered weed, of small worth held.


Then being asked where all thy beauty lies,
Where all the treasure of thy lusty days,
To say within thine own deep-sunken eyes
Were an all-eating shame and thriftless praise.


How much more praise deserved thy beauty's use
If thou couldst answer "This fair child of mine
Shall sum my count, and make my old excuse",
Proving his beauty by succession thine.


This were to be new made when thou art old,
And see thy blood warm when thou feel'st it cold.


Alternative of Sonnet 2 that exists in manuscript form (differences highlighted in blue):

When forty winters shall besiege thy brow
And trench deep furrows in that lovely field,
Thy youth's fair liv'ry, so accounted now,
Shall be like rotten weeds of no worth held.
Then being asked where all thy beauty lies,
Where all the lustre of thy youthful days,
To say "Within these hollow sunken eyes"
Were an all-eaten truth and worthless praise.
O how much better were thy beauty's use
If thou couldst say "This pretty child of mine
Saves my account and makes my old excuse",
Making his beauty by succession thine.
  This were to be new born when thou art old,
  And see thy blood warm when thou feel'st it cold.


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Critical text © NigelDavies.home@Virgin.net


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