136

If 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 prove
Among 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 hold
That 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’.
Як видавсь я душі твоїй немилим,
Заприсягни нечулій і сліпій,
Що звусь я Волею, Волінням, Віллем,
То й маю залишитися при ній.
Доповнивши твого чуття скарбницю,
В числі волінь твоїх хай буде й Вілль.
Не важить там нічого одиниця,
Де множество зійшлося звідусіль.
Хай буде в велелюднім тлумі тому
Вілль, мов кукіль серед поживних зіль,
Аби а очах лишень і в серці твому
Щось важив той малопримітний Вілль.
Люби лиш волю — й перед світом цілим
Мене любитимеш, бо звусь я Віллем.

If thy soul check thee that I come so near- If your conscience troubles you that

Swear to thy blind soul that I was thy Will,- I keep pestering you tell it that I’m your Will

And will, thy soul knows, is admitted there;- Your conscience knows that my will is allowed to go
there.

Thus far for love, my love-suit, sweet, fulfil.- Grant that much for the sake of
love In the first lines of ‘Sonnet 136,’ the speaker begins by speaking
to the Dark Lady, telling her that if her soul pushes him away,
then she can still claim it isn’t a conscious thought. She can still
swear that the speaker, “I,” is her “Will.” Depending on how one
reads these “Will” sonnets, the word “will” may refer to the
poet himself, or in different instances,In this case, he might be
thinking about her desire for him or maybe speaking about the
poet himself. He belongs to her, and/her he is an integral part of
what she sexually desires.
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 prove
Among 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 hold
That 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’.
It’s used again to refer to the speaker’s
name and to the Lady’s desire. He says that
he can “fulfil” her desire in every way that
word might be interpreted. The eighth line
lists “one” as not a number. It’s a single
thing, not a numbered thing. This might be
an attempt on the speaker’s part to bring
the Lady and himself together as “one,” a
singular being.
The poem concludes with the speaker cursing the
Dark Lady, revealing that he’s well aware of the
negative impact her presence has had in his life. He
calls her “black and hell, dark as night.” This
hearkens back to the initial Dark Lady sonnets and
the poet’s appreciation for her unique “dark” beauty.
Readers may again consider whether the Dark Lady
is physically dark, as in she has dark hair, skin, eyes,
etc., and/or she’s spiritually and emotionally dark.
SONNET 141
In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes,
For they in thee a thousand errors note; Не  очі  причаровані  тобою,  —
But 'tis my heart that loves what they despise, Вони  зіркі  і  знають,  що  ти  є,  —
Who in despite of view is pleased to dote; Та  всупереч  їм  сповнене  любов’ю
Nor are mine ears with thy tongue's tune delighted,
Уперто  серце  незірке  моє.
Nor tender feeling, to base touches prone,
Nor taste, nor smell, desire to be invited
To any sensual feast with thee alone: Твій  голос  вухо  не  могло  б
But my five wits nor my five senses can хвалити,
Dissuade one foolish heart from serving thee, І  дотик  —  геть  брутальний  для
Who leaves unsway'd the likeness of a man, чуттів,
Thy proud hearts slave and vassal wretch to be:
Only my plague thus far I count my gain, І  смак  мій  учту  пристрасті  ділити
That she that makes me sin awards me pain. З  тобою  вдвох  напевно  б  не
хотів.
Але  і  розум,  і  чуття  нездатні
Химерне  серце  похитнуть  в  бік
свій,
Тому  я  залишаюсь  безпорадний,
А  серце  служить  гордості  твоїй.

Для  мене  пошесть  виграш

означає:
З  тобою  гріх,  від  тебе  й  біль  я
маю.

The speaker is openly confessing. When he looks at

In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes,
his mistress he sees many faults, that is, she isn't in
For they in thee a thousand errors note;
his opinion very pretty. She has flaws. But this
But 'tis my heart that loves what they despise,
doesn't matter because in the third line he opens up
Who in despite of view is pleased to dote;
and admits its what he feels inside that counts.The
importance of the eyes, mentioned in 34 sonnets
Nor are mine ears with thy tongue's tune delighted,
Nor tender feeling, to base touches prone,
Nor taste, nor smell, desire to be invited
To any sensual feast with thee alone:
he sums it all up - he wouldn't want to spend
time with her one to one sensually, which
seems a bit odd since they are supposed to be
lovers.
But my five wits nor my five senses can
Dissuade one foolish heart from serving thee,
Who leaves unsway'd the likeness of a man,
Thy proud hearts slave and vassal wretch to be:
Only my plague thus far I count my gain,
That she that makes me sin awards me pain.
he admits that her voice doesn't please him.
the poor mistress by now beginning to frown
and get a bit fed up as the speaker goes on
and on with his list of flaws. he's not thrilled
by these imperfections: touch, taste and
smell
common sense, imagination, fantasy,
instinct and memory which together
with the senses cannot stop him loving
her. Any rational or logical or sensible
construct just doesn't work; he's a fool
for her love.
he is a facsimile because his
foolish heart has taken over,
turning him into a slave, under
her control (vassal) as a wretch (a
miserable or unfortunate person).
Sonnet 144: Two loves I have of comfort and despair
Two 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 coloured ill.
To win me soon to hell, my female evil
Tempteth 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 turn’d fiend,
Suspect I may, yet not directly tell,
But being both from me both to each friend,
Є дві любові, мов два духи, в мене -
Два янголи, що борються тихцем;
Дух кращий - то хлоп'я благословенне,
Дух гірший - то жона з хмурним лицем.
 
Вони обидва володіють мною.
Жадає в образі жіночім зло
Мого святця зробити сатаною,
Затьмарити його сяйне чоло.
 
Мій добрий дух борониться запекло.
Не знаю, стане чортом він чи ні,
Та знаю, що два янголи - це пекло,
Моя душа - це ж місце їх борні.
Вестиму в сумнівах життя суворе,
Допоки, зло в мені добра не зборе.
 

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.

Two loves I have of comfort and despair, Two loves I have of comfort and despair,

Which like two spirits do suggest me still Which like two spirits do suggest me still

The better angel is a man right fair,
The better angel is a man right fair,
They are like “two spirits” he adds, one of
whom is an angel and the other is a “worser
spirit a woman coloured ill.” The latter is a
reference to the Dark Lady’s skin color. She has
a dark complexion and she brings darkness into
his life

The speaker goes on to say that the darker side

of the two spirits tries to tempt him into sin.
She is a “female evil” who wants to “corrupt my
giant to be a devil.” He realizes that she’s bad
for him but as the previous sonnets suggest, he
can’t stop himself from lusting after her. His
To win me soon to hell, my female evil
Tempteth my better angel from my side,
And would corrupt my saint to be a devil,
Wooing his purity with her foul pride.

In the third and final quatrain, the speaker wonders whether or

And, whether that my angel be turn’d fiend,
Suspect 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.
not his “angel” or the Fair Youth has been corrupted by the
Dark Lady. She wants to corrupt him, she knows that, but he
doesn’t know whether or not it happened. Neither of the two is
spending time with the speaker at this point. Instead, they are
“being both from [him] both to each friend.” He has to assume
that the Fair Youth has been ruined by the Dark Lady. She
clearly has a power over men that no one is really capable of
resisting. He uses the image of the Fair Youth being dragged
down to hell at the end of the quatrain.

In the concluding couplet, the speaker completes the volta, saying that his
speculation is leading to nothing. He is never going to know for sure until the Fair
Youth is gone for good. It appears that as the sonnets go on, the Dark Lady is
controlling more and more of the speaker’s life. She isn’t content with controlling
him, she has to take the people he loves as well.

Sonnet 147: My love is as a fever, longing still
My love is as a fever, longing still
For 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 approve
Desire 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, I  все  сильніше  збудженість  моя.
    Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.
Мій  жар  зростає:  хворий  я  з
любові.
Того  шукаю,  що  загин  несе,
Мінливі  примхи  маю  нездорові:
Прошу  тих  страв,  що  шкодять
над  усе.
Суворий  лікар  Розум
розлютився:
Що  не  пропише  —  ліків  не
беру.
Пішов  він,  і  без  ради  я
лишився.
Він  правду  мав:  з  бажання  я
помру.
Надії  й  протидії  вже  не  маю,
Безладна  мова  безум  виражає:
Я  бурмочу  дурниці  навмання.

Красу  і  світло  божевілля  бачить

Там,  де  все  темно,  й  де
чортяки  скачуть.

My love is as a fever, longing still In the first lines of ‘Sonnet 147,’ the

For that which longer nurseth the disease,
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,
Th’ uncertain sickly appetite to please.
speaker begins by using a metaphor to
describe his love/lust as a “fever,” one that
is consuming him. It feeds on his common
sense and reason to preserve itself.

His body’s desire for the Dark Lady is making him

worse while fuelling the illness itself. He’s
completely unable to separate himself from the
illness/his desire.
My reason, the physician to my love,
Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,
Hath left me, and I desperate now approve
Desire is death, which physic did except.
The speaker calls his reason a “physician,’ the
only chance he had to cure himself. But,
unfortunately, reason has abandoned him after
becoming frustrated over the speaker’s refusal to
take its advice. His reason knows there’s nothing it
can do to fix the speaker.

His heart can lead to the die bc of the love but the mind
understands that it can`t be the reality to die due to it

Desire 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,
    For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright,
    Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.
In the third and final quatrain, the speaker says
that he’s “Past cure.” He’s “frantic-mad” and
unable to sit still. His mind and actions feel like a
mad man’s. The speaker’s illness had changed him,
stripping him of his reason and self-confidence. He
used to worry about this, but as the sonnets are
drawing to a close, it appears he’s turned himself
over fully to his obsession. There’s nothing and no
one who could pull him out of the downward
spiral he’s in

In this sonnet he compare the love to the obsession the death, the
illness and I thing it has a sense as love is the feeling which make stress
in some meanings.