Sonnet 147

<	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.
–William Shakespeare

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Shakespeare's sonnets

[edit] Synopsis

The poet describes his love for the addressee of the sonnet as a 'fever'.

His reason and lust have been at war, but lust has ignored all advice and now all is lost.

The poet is becoming mad with passion for a lady whom he knows is no good for him.

He had convinced himself the one he loved was good when the opposite was true.

A line by line interpretation into simplified, modern English:

1 My love for you is similar to a fever, which still wants

2 the thing which causes the fever.

3 I have the thing that causes the fever

4 all to please my unhealthy and sick appetite for it.

5 My reason (my soul?), the thing that heals my love

6 is angry that his advice is not followed

7 and has left me. I'm now desperate as I realise

8 that this (sexual?) desire I have will lead to my death, which my reason knew

9 Now that my reason has deserted me and no longer cares, I'm past cure

10 And I am frantically mad more and more

11 My thoughts and my words are like what a madman would do

12 they have nothing to do with reality and are expressed pointlessly

13 [This is because] I had convinced myself that you were fair and bright

14 when you are actually dark [visually] and as black as night [morally].