by Linda Ann Nickerson

Created on: May 26, 2007

LOVESICK: SHAKESPEARE'S SONNET 147

My love is as a fever, longing still
For that which longer nurseth the disease,
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,
The 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 express'd;
For I have sworn thee fair and thought thee bright,
Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.

PARAPHRASED LOOSELY:
My love is like a disease that keeps me desiring
To be even sicker with it.
I continue to long for the one who is making me lovesick,
So that my unhealthy desire may continue to be fed.
Common sense would heal me of this,
But I am not following good judgment.
Instead, I am desperately seeking my lover more and more.
Even if it kills me, I will keep on loving.
The doctors say I cannot be cured of this obsession.
My love is driving me out of my mind.
I am imagining things and babbling like a madman,
And I cannot see the truth about my lover.
Because you have deceived me.
I was sure you were lovely and good,
But you are truly evil and untrue.

STRUCTURE:

Adapted from Classical Petrarchan sonnets, the Shakespearean sonnet contains four sections: three quatrains (sets of four rhymed lines) and a rhymed couplet (two lines). The rhyme scheme is: ABAB CDCD EFEF GG. Like Shakespeare's other works, his sonnets are composed in iambic pentameter (his trademark meter). Sonnet 147 is no exception to these structural rules.

Shakespeare's sonnets usually constructed statements metaphorically. In this sonnet, he compares love to a disease to show how his lover has harmed him. Each quatrain advances the idea.

1) The first four lines introduce the concept and demonstrate his defenselessness against loving his beloved one, although he knows this is a bad idea.

My love is as a fever, longing still
For that which longer nurseth the disease,
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,
The uncertain sickly appetite to please.

2) The second quatrain expands the metaphor. Shakespeare now likens reason, or common sense, to a physician trying to cure him of his lovesickness. Unfortunately, he is unable to overcome his obsessive desire for his lover, despite his awareness of her harm.

My reason, the physician to my love,
Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,
Hath left me, and

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