Sonnet No 99: The forward violet thus did I chide:
Julia
99
-
1. The forward violet thus did I chide:
2. 'Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells,
3. If not from my love's breath? The purple pride
4. Which on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells
5. In my love's veins thou hast too grossly dyed.'
6. The lily I condemn`ed for thy hand,
7. And buds of marjoram had stol'n thy hair;
8. The roses fearfully on thorns did stand,
9. One blushing shame, another white despair:
10. A third, nor red, nor white, had stol'n of both,
11. And to his robbery had annexed thy breath,
12. But for his theft in pride of all his growth
13. A vengeful canker eat him up to death.
14. More flowers I noted, yet I none could see
15. But sweet or colour it had stol'n from thee.
-
15 Lines!
--
Julia
Nigel Davies
Theme: Floral analogy
Content: A memorable sonnet developing the Lily and Rose imagery from 98.
Diminished by the fact that its material is strongly copied from Constable's
original, though curiously (and uniquely) containing 15 lines (line 1 being the
extra one). The subject is defined as the source of the fragrance and complexion
of flowers. Shakespeare goes on to parody himself (and others) on this in 130.
> 1. The forward violet thus did I chide:
> 2. Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells,
> 3. If not from my love's breath? The purple pride
> 4. Which on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells
> 5. In my love's veins thou hast too grossly dyed.
> 6. The lily I condemned for thy hand,
> 7. And buds of marjoram had stol'n thy hair;
- Chiding the bold violet for stealing its fragrance from another.
- Beautifully introduces his subject as the victim of the alleged theft by
comparing their breath with the fragrance of the violet.
- Extends the metaphor by correlating the flower's complexion with that of the
subject.
- Further extends the floral metaphor in line 6 but now the author addresses the
subject rather than the flowers.
- Heavy "-s-" alliteration.
- Assonance between "marjoram" and "stol'n".
- Possible pun on vanity in "veins".
- The Quarto has "dyed" spelled as "died", suggesting in its rhyme that "pride
dies".
- Other poems in the series tell the subject that they have a temporary lease on
beauty; here the flowers have stolen these features outright, never to be
returned.
> 8. The roses fearfully on thorns did stand,
> 9. One blushing shame, another white despair;
> 10. A third, nor red nor white, had stol'n of both,
> 11. And to his robb'ry had annexed thy breath;
- Repeat of the "breath" theft from Q1 perhaps diminishes the sonnet's quality a
little but sets up the rhyme with "death".
- The third rose commits a triple robbery: two colours and fragrance.
- The Quarto spells "One" as "Our", presumably a compositor's hash-up.
> 12. But for his theft in pride of all his growth
> 13. A vengeful canker eat him up to death.
- The eventual demise of the flower by canker for the robbery of the subject's
qualities.
- The red and white roses live on in shame and fear for committing a single
offence but the variegated rose dies for committing the triple offence of
stealing both the subject's colours and, paradoxically, the subject's
life-giving breath: a kind of Shakespearean "3 strikes and you're out" rule.
- Eye-rhyme of "eat" in "death".
- "Pride" is associated with the thieving variegated rose as it was with the
violet in Q1.
- There may be a specious message for the subject here that pride comes before a
fall. The criticism of the flowers' complexion and fragrance could be directed
at their act of theft but also at the ostentatious "pride" with which they
display it, something the subject may also be guilty of.
> 14. More flowers I noted, yet I none could see
> 15. But sweet or colour it had stol'n from thee.
- Natural conclusion to the theme of the sonnet with "stolen" or "steal"
appearing in every quatrain of the sonnet as in the couplet.
- Apparently, no other flowers but these have stolen from the subject.
- The Quarto spells "colour" as "culler", possibly a pun on two meanings of
"cull": to gather flowers; to choose the best of.
Constable's original, from DIANA, Decad. 1, Sonnet 9, published 1594:
My lady's presence makes the roses red
Because to see her lips they blush for shame.
The lily's leaves, for envy, pale became,
And her white hands in them this envy bred.
The marigold the leaves abroad doth spread
Because the sun's and her power is the same.
The violet of purple color came,
Dyed in the blood she made my heart to shed.
In brief, all flowers from her their virtue takes;
From her sweet breath their sweet smells do proceed;
The living heat which her eyebeams doth make
Warmeth the ground and quickeneth the seed.
The rain wherewith she watereth the flowers
Falls from mine eyes, which she dissolves in showers.
______________________________________________________________________
nda...@emirates.net.ae
Robert Stonehouse
> 99
>-
> 2. 'Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells,
that sweet scent, /
> 3. If not from my love's breath? The purple pride
The conspicuous redness /
> 4. Which on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells
> 5. In my love's veins thou hast too grossly dyed.'
is a colour flagrantly stolen from my love's blood.' /
> 6. The lily I condemn`ed for thy hand,
I found the lily guilty of stealing the colour of your hand /
> 7. And buds of marjoram had stol'n thy hair;
and the marjoram, the scent of your hair, /
> 8. The roses fearfully on thorns did stand,
the roses were terrified, standing as if on broken glass /
> 9. One blushing shame, another white despair:
one blushing red with shame, another pale with fear, /
>10. A third, nor red, nor white, had stol'n of both,
while another, a pink one, had obviously thieved a bit of each /
>11. And to his robbery had annexed thy breath,
and on top of that had taken the scent of your breath /
>12. But for his theft in pride of all his growth
but as punishment, at the moment when he grew highest /
>13. A vengeful canker eat him up to death.
a plant disease devoured him in revenge. /
>14. More flowers I noted, yet I none could see
There were a lot more flowers in sight, but I saw none /
>15. But sweet or colour it had stol'n from thee.
that had not stolen either scent or colour from you. /
Five lines in the first quatrain! The first departure from 14 lines
and the rhyme-scheme abab cdcd efef gg - though after ababa at the
beginning it returns to plan.
My version of line 5 is a bit gruesome - evidently this is an
aristocrat, with blood on the blue side of red (violet) - but the
poetry avoids that.
This poem overstrains my botany. I can't find that marjoram is hairy
at all and so I assume the scent alone is meant. 'Although there are
several species of marjoram, that which is known as the sweet or
knotted marjoram is the one usually preferred in cookery. It is a
native of Portugal, and when its leaves are used as a seasoning
herb, they have an agreeable aromatic flavour.' (Beeton's Book of
Household Management, recipe 415. No hair in the accompanying
picture. But are the buds scented as well as the leaves? And why is
it knotted?)
In line 8, I assume 'standing on thorns' was a well-known phrase for
uncomfortable shifting from one foot to the other. No literal
meaning would fit - the flowers of the rose are not supported by the
thorns, obviously. The pink rose, presumably, is the damask rose
which we discussed on sonnet 54, from which scent was made (must
look at Dejanews to see to whom we owe this). Is that rose specially
susceptible to disease?
Sonnet 97 was all summer/winter. 98 was summer/winter, but
introduced a list of flowers. Now 99 is all flowers; summer and
winter have gone out of the window. All that follows very naturally.
97 was 'thou', 98 'you' and now 99 is 'thou'. I really can't see any
difference in tone, causing that or caused by it.
Once again, no specially profound thought, just a charming series of
metaphors and flowery language. Perhaps, since this is the third of
that kind in a row, that is why he broke out into 15 lines, and four
of direct speech.
ew...@bcs.org.uk
ndavie...@my-deja.com
> My version of line 5 is a bit gruesome - evidently this is an
> aristocrat, with blood on the blue side of red (violet) - but the
> poetry avoids that.
Good point.
> The pink rose, presumably, is the damask rose
> which we discussed on sonnet 54, from which scent was made (must
> look at Dejanews to see to whom we owe this). Is that rose specially
> susceptible to disease?
Interesting. I took this to be a variegated or flecked rose such as the
scented Rosa gallica (a blend of reds, whites and pinks).
> Once again, no specially profound thought, just a charming series of
> metaphors and flowery language. Perhaps, since this is the third of
> that kind in a row, that is why he broke out into 15 lines, and four
> of direct speech.
Perhaps he wanted to literally go one better than Constable in number
of lines as well as technical superiority.
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KQKnave
(1974), pp279-80:
"This reflects Constable's sonnet closely. He created a flattering
mythology about the flowers taking their qualities from his
lady, the rose blushing for shame when it saw her lips, the lily
pale with envy of her hands, the marigold spreading its leaves
since its power is like that of his lady, and the violet dyed
purple in the blood which she shed. In brief all flowers
take their virtue from her, and smell with her breath. Shakespeare
deduces that the flowers must be thieves. He begins with the
violet, Constable's last one, and accuses it particularly of stealing
its 'sweet that smells' from his love's breath, so mocking
Constable's general statement about flowers, that immediately
follows: 'From her sweet breath their sweet smells do proceed'.
The double 'sweet' is parodied by being turned into a noun as
'thy sweet that smells'. He may intend two meanings for its
petals being 'too grossly' dyed. Not only is the purple a grosser
shade but the theft is too obvious to be missed. The lily is
'condemned' for its action in taking its colour from his friend's
hands. Instead of the marigod that does not give an image for
theft, 'marjoram' is substituted, which alliterates and has the
same rhythm. The myth of the roses is geared to theft and
made too fanciful. They all stand in fear because of their guilt.
One blushes for shame, another is white with despair, not for
envy, but because of the theft. A third has stolen both red and
white and also his friend's breath. But for this outrageous theft
a canker took vengeance and 'eat him up to death'. To complete
the nonsense Shakespeare says he looked at other flowers
but found that they too had all stolen their colour and their
'sweet' from his friend. With this mock amazement he ends.
We have enjoyed three spring-time, flowery sonnets as a
relief from intricate wit. Now we return to it in sonnet 100 as if
after a holiday."
Jim
Robert Stonehouse
>Star rating: *** (3/5)
>Theme: Floral analogy
>Content: A memorable sonnet developing the Lily and Rose imagery from 98.
>Diminished by the fact that its material is strongly copied from Constable's
>original,
This is not any surreptitious copying - it must be part of the
story. This is a reply to Constable, not a plagiarism.
>though curiously (and uniquely) containing 15 lines (line 1 being the
>extra one). The subject is defined as the source of the fragrance and complexion
>of flowers. Shakespeare goes on to parody himself (and others) on this in 130.
>
>
>> 1. The forward violet thus did I chide:
>
>> 2. Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells,
>> 3. If not from my love's breath? The purple pride
>> 4. Which on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells
>> 5. In my love's veins thou hast too grossly dyed.
>> 6. The lily I condemned for thy hand,
>> 7. And buds of marjoram had stol'n thy hair;
I agree, line 1 on its own is the extra one. It forms a kind of
introduction, almost a title, and brings in the unusual direct
speech. After it, the rhyme scheme becomes abab etc. in the usual
way. But we need the break after line 5 as well; that is where the
quotation marks end, as it were. 'Thou' in line 5 is the violet,
'thy' in line 6 is the addressee of the poem.
I fell into a Shakespearian trap; the rhyme looks like ababa, but
then it turns out to be babab. That is, the first line we see is the
extra one, and it has been made to rhyme with what would normally be
lines 2 and 4.
...
>> 14. More flowers I noted, yet I none could see
>> 15. But sweet or colour it had stol'n from thee.
>
>- Natural conclusion to the theme of the sonnet with "stolen" or "steal"
>appearing in every quatrain of the sonnet as in the couplet.
>- Apparently, no other flowers but these have stolen from the subject.
Other way round - he can't see a flower that has _not_ stolen either
its scent or its colour.
>- The Quarto spells "colour" as "culler", possibly a pun on two meanings of
>"cull": to gather flowers; to choose the best of.
>
>
>Constable's original, from DIANA, Decad. 1, Sonnet 9, published 1594:
O most lame and impotent conclusion! Many thanks for letting us see
it.
>
>My lady's presence makes the roses red
>Because to see her lips they blush for shame.
>The lily's leaves, for envy, pale became,
>And her white hands in them this envy bred.
>The marigold the leaves abroad doth spread
>Because the sun's and her power is the same.
>The violet of purple color came,
>Dyed in the blood she made my heart to shed.
Not her blood, but his blood, so detracting from the truth of the
next line. Indeed, since the flowers get their colours from shame or
envy, not by stealing or borrowing, the next line is not really very
apt. The words 'in brief' arouse expectations that are not fulfilled
- this is not a poet who understands brevity.
>In brief, all flowers from her their virtue takes;
>From her sweet breath their sweet smells do proceed;
>The living heat which her eyebeams doth make
>Warmeth the ground and quickeneth the seed.
> The rain wherewith she watereth the flowers
> Falls from mine eyes, which she dissolves in showers.
His rain again. Surely there is a contrast here that something could
have been made of: her beauty, his blood and tears. But no sign of
it that I can see.
ew...@bcs.org.uk
Robert Stonehouse
>From Katherine M. Wilson's "Shakespeare's Sugared Sonnets",
>(1974), pp279-80:
>
>"This reflects Constable's sonnet closely. He created a flattering
>mythology about the flowers taking their qualities from his
>lady, the rose blushing for shame when it saw her lips, the lily
>pale with envy of her hands, the marigold spreading its leaves
>since its power is like that of his lady,
closes at night and reopens when the sun shines on it - often used
as an emblem of aspects of love. 'Leaves' here means 'petals'.
>and the violet dyed
>purple in the blood which she shed. In brief all flowers
>take their virtue from her, and smell with her breath. Shakespeare
>deduces that the flowers must be thieves.
from Constable's. After reading Constable, it gets much easier to
appreciate Shakespeare's poem at its proper value.
>He begins with the
>violet, Constable's last one, and accuses it particularly of stealing
>its 'sweet that smells' from his love's breath, so mocking
>Constable's general statement about flowers, that immediately
>follows: 'From her sweet breath their sweet smells do proceed'.
>The double 'sweet' is parodied by being turned into a noun as
>'thy sweet that smells'.
the same thing. Shakespeare, never - though this is not one of his
strongest efforts (like sonnet 43).
>He may intend two meanings for its
>petals being 'too grossly' dyed. Not only is the purple a grosser
>shade but the theft is too obvious to be missed. The lily is
>'condemned' for its action in taking its colour from his friend's
>hands. Instead of the marigod that does not give an image for
>theft, 'marjoram' is substituted, which alliterates and has the
>same rhythm. The myth of the roses is geared to theft and
>made too fanciful. They all stand in fear because of their guilt.
>One blushes for shame, another is white with despair, not for
>envy, but because of the theft. A third has stolen both red and
>white and also his friend's breath. But for this outrageous theft
>a canker took vengeance and 'eat him up to death'. To complete
>the nonsense
poetry.
>Shakespeare says he looked at other flowers
>but found that they too had all stolen their colour and their
>'sweet' from his friend. With this mock amazement he ends.
> We have enjoyed three spring-time, flowery sonnets as a
>relief from intricate wit. Now we return to it in sonnet 100 as if
>after a holiday."
ew...@bcs.org.uk
volker multhopp
> 99
> 1. The forward violet thus did I chide:
> 2. 'Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells,
> 3. If not from my love's breath? The purple pride
> 4. Which on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells
The fresh violet I upbraided thus: "Thief, where did you steal that
sweetness, if not from my lover's breath? And that purple blush you
wear looks too much like the tinge of my lover's veins."
> 6. The lily I condemn`ed for thy hand,
> 7. And buds of marjoram had stol'n thy hair;
> 8. The roses fearfully on thorns did stand,
> 9. One blushing shame, another white despair:
I accused the lily for taking the white of your hand, the marjoram for
the fragrance of your hair. The roses stood indicted-- one blushing
red, one anguished white:
> 10. A third, nor red, nor white, had stol'n of both,
> 11. And to his robbery had annexed thy breath,
> 12. But for his theft in pride of all his growth
> 13. A vengeful canker eat him up to death.
A third had stolen color from both of those, and added to his theft
your breath-- but for that a cancer struck him in his prime.
> 14. More flowers I noted, yet I none could see
> 15. But sweet or colour it had stol'n from thee.
I saw more flowers, but I couldn't see any that hadn't stolen color or
scent from you.
-----------------------------
All flowers are thieves for stealing delicate colors and odors from the
Beloved. Metaphors of accusation and connected shame and punishment
saturate the sonnet.
WS may have been punning on sweet/sweat with "Sweet violet ... sweet
that smells"-- a pun possibly lost to us by modern, standardized
pronounciation. I suspect "violet water" was a pretty common decoction
at the time, which would give us a sweet-smelling "sweat" from the
violet. The violet color stolen would be that purple stain of veining
one sometimes particularly notices with delicate white skin. WS
possibly gives that color "in my love's veins" a double meaning by
suggesting *blue blood*, ie B is noble.
The lily is a stock metaphor for whiteness. Also, its six long petals
somewhat suggest fingers. Marjoram is not noted for its modest flowers,
but its fragrance (hence used in cooking), so the author understands he
can compress *their scent from* out from "had stol'n () thy hair". The
buds here are not technically buds (premature flowers), but are the
entire small spikes of tiny blue flowers of marjoram (and common to many
other members of the Mint family) that are often popularly called
"buds".
The violet is explicitly accused of theft of both scent and color, the
lily only of color, marjoram only of scent. As for the red and white
roses, we can only infer from the greater context that they stole their
colors. The third rose stole its odor from B, which follows the
established pattern, but curiously it derives its color(s) (pink? or is
it red-and-white?) not directly from B, but the other two roses.
Whenever WS speaks of red and white roses, we owe it to ourselves to
explore whether he is alluding to the houses of Lancaster and York--
their conflict being a favorite subject of his. Thus we would interpret
the third rose, which has color from both the red and the white, as an
offspring thereof-- a Tudor rose, so to speak. (But lest we take this
too literally, probably any of the blue-blooded noble families of the
time could have shown Yorkist and Lancastrean elements.) But, again,
sustaining this intrepretation is that this third, Tudor rose gets its
color not from B, but from the red and white roses. This Tudor rose
also has a special position in the sonnet, because it stands not only
accused, it already has been punished. And unlike the violet, lily, and
marjoram-- it was not explicitly the author who leveled the accusation--
he may be merely noting a concluded action. The punishment was the
canker which nipped this rose in the bud, which prevented it from
reaching its natural potential. The cankered bud is a powerful metaphor
which WS can't shed-- it's used 5 times in the Sonnets, and in 14 other
works as well. He is struck with this image of a potential great flower
thwarted.
The most unsatisfactory aspect of the sonnet (apart from its somewhat
trite theme) is that the lily gets its odor from B's breath, marjoram
from B's hair, and the third rose its scent again from B's breath. WS
seems to have run out of sources. If B were a woman, I think some
flower could steal a scent from her bosom.
COMPILATION:
Some are tempted to see S99 as a continuation of S98. They work this
way:
98--
Yet seemed it winter still, and you away,
As with your shadow I with these [flowers] did play.
99--
The forward violet thus did I chide, ...
S98 talks "Of different flowers in odour and in hue", which certainly
suggests the sweet scents and colors reported stolen in S99, and 99
begins *play*fully enough with a chiding. S99 thus seems to be
describing the play he was to have with the flowers. But the vermilion
rose of S98 cannot really stand in for the three different-colored roses
of S99. And the dire note struck by the crippled third rose does not
fit well into an atmosphere of playfulness. Furthermore, the
given-order-folks would once again have to deal with an unjustified,
unexplained, unhinted-at transition from "you" to "thou". S99 works
perfectly well on its own; it does not need an preface; "The forward
violet thus did I chide" puts us wonderfully, immediately into a garden,
where WS addresses flowers and reveals himself.
--Volker
Greg Reynolds
it? Let me introduce myself: Watchful Willy here, the best gumbushkin
north or south of the Thames.
This was a tough case--even for me. Seems my dame's good looks were
getting, shall we say "spread about." I was the only private eye to
notice, and I could crack this case in one day, no expenses, but
something was gnawing at me, ripping at my heartstrings like a tin
miner rips at a sugar daddy's purse strings. I was uneasy. I knocked
down another shandy and proceeded like an unwrapt tyger...
XCIX The Case of the Pilfering Plants
I chewed on a hot-cross bun and propped my bushkins on my desk. It
just didn't add up. My love's sweet essence was showing up all over
the joint. I had to crack this case, or it was back to the horse
valet trade. The only other scene shaking was the dunghills back home
in Stratford. Or poaching. So I knocked down another shandy and
upstarted.
The Investigation
-The Usual Suspects
> 1. The forward violet thus did I chide:
> 2. 'Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells,
> 3. If not from my love's breath?
I played 'good cop' for the questioning, and I went along with them
until I could gain their confidence, so I could hear it straight. It
was obvious this was a bigger crime wave than I thought.
> The
purple pride
> 4. Which on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells
> 5. In my love's veins thou hast too grossly dyed.'
I told the eager violet who sprouted early
Where did you get that sweet aroma and color?
You took it from my love!
Now I was getting somewhere.
> 6. The lily I condemn`ed for thy hand,
> 7. And buds of marjoram had stol'n thy hair;
Yeah, it seemed every pretty plant in the place was purloining her
pulchritude.
> 8. The roses fearfully on thorns did stand,
> 9. One blushing shame, another white despair:
The Break in the Case
-I finally got the roses to squeal...
> 10. A third, nor red, nor white, had stol'n of both,
> 11. And to his robbery had annexed thy breath,
They gave up "Pinky," their leader. Sweet victory, I thought.
> 12. But for his theft in pride of all his growth
> 13. A vengeful canker eat him up to death.
But (Jack) Ruby "picked" off "Pinky" before I could pin it on him.
> 14. More flowers I noted, yet I none could see
> 15. But sweet or colour it had stol'n from thee.
Then the investigation took an ugly turn: I soon found that very damn
flower was filching from my baby, every pickpocketing petal, every
stealing stem, every absconding aroma, every borrowing bouquet, they
had all stolen my love's beauty, and there wasn't a damn thing I
could do about it... So I knocked down another shandy.
Oh well, see ya around, baby.
Greg Reynolds
Julia, sweet thief, whence didst thou post:
> 99
> -
> 1. The forward violet thus did I chide:
> 2. 'Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells,
> 3. If not from my love's breath? The purple pride
> 4. Which on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells
> 5. In my love's veins thou hast too grossly dyed.'
> 6. The lily I condemn`ed for thy hand,
> 7. And buds of marjoram had stol'n thy hair;
> 8. The roses fearfully on thorns did stand,
> 9. One blushing shame, another white despair:
> 10. A third, nor red, nor white, had stol'n of both,
> 11. And to his robbery had annexed thy breath,
> 12. But for his theft in pride of all his growth
> 13. A vengeful canker eat him up to death.
> 14. More flowers I noted, yet I none could see
> 15. But sweet or colour it had stol'n from thee.
Greg Reynolds
Nigel Davies wrote:
> <>
> > 14. More flowers I noted, yet I none could see
> > 15. But sweet or colour it had stol'n from thee.
>
> - Natural conclusion to the theme of the sonnet with "stolen" or "steal"
> appearing in every quatrain of the sonnet as in the couplet.
> - Apparently, no other flowers but these have stolen from the subject.
Though literally, its hard to explain, I think that he could find no flower who did
NOT steal. There must be a name for this technique, anyone?
I think it makes sense that all flowers are guilty, not just the several unrelated
ones mentioned.
Thanks for the Constable poem (so who is a thief?). Of course is it certain that
this sonnet doesn't predate 1594? Then Constable's the borrower.
Greg Reynolds
Greg Reynolds
volker multhopp wrote:
> <>
> Whenever WS speaks of red and white roses, we owe it to ourselves to
> explore whether he is alluding to the houses of Lancaster and York--
> their conflict being a favorite subject of his. Thus we would interpret
> the third rose, which has color from both the red and the white, as an
> offspring thereof-- a Tudor rose, so to speak. (But lest we take this
> too literally, probably any of the blue-blooded noble families of the
> time could have shown Yorkist and Lancastrean elements.) But, again,
> sustaining this intrepretation is that this third, Tudor rose gets its
> color not from B, but from the red and white roses. This Tudor rose
> also has a special position in the sonnet, because it stands not only
> accused, it already has been punished. And unlike the violet, lily, and
> marjoram-- it was not explicitly the author who leveled the accusation--
> he may be merely noting a concluded action. The punishment was the
> canker which nipped this rose in the bud, which prevented it from
> reaching its natural potential.
Excellent! Glad you brought this up.
Greg Reynolds
Jordonfree
>> 14. More flowers I noted, yet I none could see
>> 15. But sweet or colour it had stol'n from thee.
>
>Then the investigation took an ugly turn: I soon found that very damn
>flower was filching from my baby, every pickpocketing petal, every
>stealing stem, every absconding aroma, every borrowing bouquet, they
>had all stolen my love's beauty, and there wasn't a damn thing I
>could do about it... So I knocked down another shandy.
>Oh well, see ya around, baby.
>
>
>Greg Reynolds
>
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>
>
>Julia, sweet thief, whence didst thou post:
>
>> 99
>> -
>> 1. The forward violet thus did I chide:
>> 2. 'Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells,
>> 3. If not from my love's breath? The purple pride
>> 4. Which on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells
>> 5. In my love's veins thou hast too grossly dyed.'
>> 6. The lily I condemn`ed for thy hand,
>> 7. And buds of marjoram had stol'n thy hair;
>> 8. The roses fearfully on thorns did stand,
>> 9. One blushing shame, another white despair:
>> 10. A third, nor red, nor white, had stol'n of both,
>> 11. And to his robbery had annexed thy breath,
>> 12. But for his theft in pride of all his growth
>> 13. A vengeful canker eat him up to death.
>> 14. More flowers I noted, yet I none could see
>> 15. But sweet or colour it had stol'n from thee.
>> -
>>
>> 15 Lines!
>> --
>> Julia
Ariel
ndavie...@my-deja.com
> > > 14. More flowers I noted, yet I none could see
> > > 15. But sweet or colour it had stol'n from thee.
> >
> > - Natural conclusion to the theme of the sonnet with "stolen" or
"steal"
> > appearing in every quatrain of the sonnet as in the couplet.
> > - Apparently, no other flowers but these have stolen from the
subject.
>
> Though literally, its hard to explain, I think that he could find no
flower who did
> NOT steal. There must be a name for this technique, anyone?
> I think it makes sense that all flowers are guilty, not just the
several unrelated
> ones mentioned.
Yes. I completely misinterpreted that.
> Thanks for the Constable poem (so who is a thief?). Of course is it
certain that
> this sonnet doesn't predate 1594? Then Constable's the borrower.
I'm sure Constable's was the first which inspired Shakespeare to write
his version which is technically far superior. Constable's sonnet was
published both in 1592 and 1594. The correlation of words between the
two shows that Shakespeare literally copied both the theme and many key
words but created a sonnet that bettered the original in total.
This is a very good example of a poet with self-confessed "rude
ignorance" bettering the poetry of one who has "high learning":
Constable was a Cambridge graduate.
ndavie...@my-deja.com
> Nigel Davies <nda...@emirates.net.ae> wrote:
>
> >Star rating: *** (3/5)
> >Theme: Floral analogy
> >Content: A memorable sonnet developing the Lily and Rose imagery from
98.
> >Diminished by the fact that its material is strongly copied from
Constable's
> >original,
> This is not any surreptitious copying - it must be part of the
> story. This is a reply to Constable, not a plagiarism.
There's no suggestion of it being surreptitious, but I do regard it as
copying, or inspiration. The theme is indispitably the same and many of
the words and ideas match so one has borrowed from the other, reworked
it, and created something that is better. I see no response from
Shakespeare to Constable.
> >> 14. More flowers I noted, yet I none could see
> >> 15. But sweet or colour it had stol'n from thee.
> >
> >- Natural conclusion to the theme of the sonnet with "stolen" or
"steal"
> >appearing in every quatrain of the sonnet as in the couplet.
> >- Apparently, no other flowers but these have stolen from the
subject.
> Other way round - he can't see a flower that has _not_ stolen either
> its scent or its colour.
Agreed. My mistake.
> >- The Quarto spells "colour" as "culler", possibly a pun on two
meanings of
> >"cull": to gather flowers; to choose the best of.
> >
> >
> >Constable's original, from DIANA, Decad. 1, Sonnet 9, published 1594:
> O most lame and impotent conclusion!
?????????????????????
Greg Reynolds
ndavie...@my-deja.com wrote:
> ...Constable's was the first which inspired Shakespeare to write
> his version which is technically far superior. Constable's sonnet was
> published both in 1592 and 1594. The correlation of words between the
> two shows that Shakespeare literally copied both the theme and many key
> words but created a sonnet that bettered the original in total.
>
> This is a very good example of a poet with self-confessed "rude
> ignorance" bettering the poetry of one who has "high learning":
> Constable was a Cambridge graduate.
It resonates again in Much Ado, Act 5 Scene 4:
BENEDICK
I'll tell thee what, prince; a college of
wit-crackers cannot flout me out of my humour.
Greg Reynolds
KQKnave
I came across this sonnet by Surrey which struck me immediately as
being related to the theme of some of Shakespeare's sonnets, especially
the last 2, 97 and 98. First edition was published in 1557.
[2] Description of Spring, wherin eche thing
renewes, save onelie the lover.
The soote season, that bud and blome furth bringes,
With grene hath clad the hill and eke the vale:
The nightingale with fethers new she singes:
The turtle to her make hath tolde her tale:
Somer is come, for every spray nowe springes,
The hart hath hong his olde hed on the pale:
The buck in brake his winter cote he flinges:
The fishes flote with newe repaired scale:
The adder all her sloughe awaye she slings:
The swift swallow pursueth the flyes smale:
The busy bee her honye now she minges:
Winter is worne that was the flowers bale:
And thus I see among these pleasant thinges
Eche care decayes, and yet my sorrow springes.
I am not the first to notice, of course. Kathleen M. Wilson,
for example, points out the connection in her book
"Shakespeare's Sugared Sonnets".
Jim
Greg Reynolds
volker multhopp wrote of Sonnet 99:
> Whenever WS speaks of red and white roses, we owe it to ourselves to
> explore whether he is alluding to the houses of Lancaster and York--
> their conflict being a favorite subject of his. Thus we would interpret
> the third rose, which has color from both the red and the white, as an
> offspring thereof-- a Tudor rose, so to speak. (But lest we take this
> too literally, probably any of the blue-blooded noble families of the
> time could have shown Yorkist and Lancastrean elements.) But, again,
> sustaining this intrepretation is that this third, Tudor rose gets its
> color not from B, but from the red and white roses. This Tudor rose
> also has a special position in the sonnet, because it stands not only
> accused, it already has been punished. And unlike the violet, lily, and
> marjoram-- it was not explicitly the author who leveled the accusation--
> he may be merely noting a concluded action. The punishment was the
> canker which nipped this rose in the bud, which prevented it from
> reaching its natural potential. The cankered bud is a powerful metaphor
> which WS can't shed-- it's used 5 times in the Sonnets, and in 14 other
> works as well. He is struck with this image of a potential great flower
> thwarted.
Volker,
-If the poem is public, and courtly, and political, its got to be playing toward
the Y & L dynasties. I think it inescapable that WS intended some parallel. (On
the other hand, many plants are mentioned, and there aren't that many colors for
roses after all--probably only three then, the three mentioned.)
-If this is a private poem to a lover, who cares on dynasties of old?
I can't get your idea out of my mind. It may all be coincidental but I'm hooked
in.
Here is the context of Sonnet 99:
8. The roses fearfully on thorns did stand,
9. One blushing shame, another white despair:
10. A third, nor red, nor white, had stol'n of both,
11. And to his robbery had annexed thy breath,
12. But for his theft in pride of all his growth
13. A vengeful canker eat him up to death.
++
(sonnet reprinted in full below)
History holds (though inaccurate) that the Yorks used the white rose as a emblem,
Lancasters the red. The York lineage traces through Elizabeth, the Lancaster does
not.
In the poem then, the Lancasters express shame, the Yorks express despair. The
Tudors, thieves of thieves, are punished (avenged).
BUT: I would call Eliz a white rose (York) and not have a call for the pink rose,
as I can't see the connection to Lancasters. Is the Tudor Rose historically
connected to Y/Ls or the Wars? Is the Tudor Rose pink? (I notice the source poem
by Constable did not play on the Roses as the sonnet did.)
Can the violet, lily, and marjoram then also play off anything political?
Greg Reynolds
And how did the Roses story start?
What a sweet way to glorify war--its between the Roses...right.
Sonnet 99
> 1. The forward violet thus did I chide:
> 2. 'Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells,
> 3. If not from my love's breath? The purple pride
> 4. Which on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells
> 5. In my love's veins thou hast too grossly dyed.'
> 6. The lily I condemn`ed for thy hand,
> 7. And buds of marjoram had stol'n thy hair;
> 8. The roses fearfully on thorns did stand,
> 9. One blushing shame, another white despair:
> 10. A third, nor red, nor white, had stol'n of both,
> 11. And to his robbery had annexed thy breath,
> 12. But for his theft in pride of all his growth
> 13. A vengeful canker eat him up to death.
Greg Reynolds
KQKnave wrote:
Jim,
What a poem. It shows the biology of the day, too. Fishes get new scales
every year.
And great ending, that sorrow is reborn. (As for relating to other WS
sonnet themes, this is more straightforward and concise than 97-8.)
Is "minges" mingles? I have to get an OED one of the (father's) days.
Greg
Robert Stonehouse
>While cruising through Tottel's Songs and Sonnets for the V&A/H&L thing,
>I came across this sonnet by Surrey which struck me immediately as
>being related to the theme of some of Shakespeare's sonnets, especially
>the last 2, 97 and 98. First edition was published in 1557.
Many thanks for this! It's a lovely piece - most surprising for its
date. I think the season is not used as a metaphor at all, which is
unlike Shakespeare. What it recalls to me is the Prologue to the
Canterbury Tales: the first paragraph beginning (in Skeat)
'Whan that Aprille with his shoures soote' and the second
'Bifil that in that seson on a day'
>
>[2] Description of Spring, wherin eche thing
> renewes, save onelie the lover.
(Very good summary. Hard to do with Shakespeare.)
>
>The soote season, that bud and blome furth bringes,
>With grene hath clad the hill and eke the vale:
>The nightingale with fethers new she singes:
Here he begins the theme of animals shedding their winter state;
oddly, with one that does not happen, I think. The nightingale
arrives in May and starts to sing, but has it a different winter
appearance? (No mention of one in the Hamlyn Guide to Birds of
Britain and Europe.)
>The turtle to her make hath tolde her tale:
'Turtle' was the usual word for 'turtle-dove'; I am not sure if this
refers to the Song ofSolomon or not.
>Somer is come, for every spray nowe springes,
>The hart hath hong his olde hed on the pale:
>The buck in brake his winter cote he flinges:
Excellent thoughts - the hart using a fence to get rid of his old
antlers, the buck scratching his winter coat off against the bushes.
>The fishes flote with newe repaired scale:
Do they really do this?
>The adder all her sloughe awaye she slings:
Snakes shed their skins when they need to in order to grow; does
this happen specially in spring?
>The swift swallow pursueth the flyes smale:
>The busy bee her honye now she minges:
That last word took me two goes at the dictionary; 'Meng', (obs.
exc. dial.) 1. to mix, 2. to produce by mixing , late ME.
>Winter is worne that was the flowers bale:
The first mention of the vegetable kingdom since lines 1-2. I see
this as the main difference from Shakespeare 98-99, which are mainly
about flowers.
>And thus I see among these pleasant thinges
>Eche care decayes, and yet my sorrow springes.
>
>I am not the first to notice, of course. Kathleen M. Wilson,
>for example, points out the connection in her book
>"Shakespeare's Sugared Sonnets".
Robert Stonehouse
...
> Is the Tudor Rose pink?
It is a double rose, the inner ring of petals being red and the
outer white. But since it is a heraldic object, not a natural
flower, it is not scented, which surely puts it out of court.
ew...@bcs.org.uk
volker multhopp
> History holds (though inaccurate) that the Yorks used the white rose as a emblem,
> Lancasters the red. The York lineage traces through Elizabeth, the Lancaster does
> not.
> BUT: I would call Eliz a white rose (York) and not have a call for the pink rose,
> as I can't see the connection to Lancasters. Is the Tudor Rose historically
> connected to Y/Ls or the Wars?
RICHMOND. ...
We will unite the white rose and the red.
Smile heaven upon this fair conjunction,
That long have frown'd upon their emnity!
...
All this divided York and Lancaster,
Divided in their dire division,
O, now let Richmond and Elizabeth,
The true succeeders of each royal house,
By God's fair ordinance conjoin together!
[--R3]
(This earl of Richmond was Henry Tudor, later Henry7, by his mother's
side the gg-grandson of John of Gaunt, duke of Lancaster. This
Elizabeth was daughter of Edward4 (Yorkist).)
--Volker
Greg Reynolds
volker multhopp wrote:
Looking ahead to Henry 6, part 1 in July, we're gonna see the Roses originate.