Sonnet 79

The speaker laments that his muse is 'decayed' now that the beloved is praised by another, better poet, and philosophizes that all praise ultimately returns to the beloved's own virtue.

Original

Modern

1 Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid,

While I was the only one who called upon your help,

2 My verse alone had all thy gentle grace,

My poetry alone contained all your gentle grace,

3 But now my gracious numbers are decayed,

But now my beautiful verse has deteriorated,

'Decayed' = deteriorated, weakened.

4 And my sick muse doth give an other place.

And my weakened inspiration yields to another.

'Give place' = make room for, yield to.

5 I grant (sweet love) thy lovely argument

I acknowledge, beloved, that you as subject matter

'Argument' = subject matter.

6 Deserves the travail of a worthier pen,

Deserves the labor of a better poet,

'Travail' = hard work, labor.

7 Yet what of thee thy poet doth invent,

Yet what your rival poet creates about you,

8 He robs thee of, and pays it thee again,

He steals from you and returns it as praise,

The rival takes the beloved's beauty and fashions it into praise.

Volta The volta shifts from the speaker's loss to a reframing: the rival poet doesn't create praise but merely channels and reflects the beloved's own virtue back to them.

9 He lends thee virtue, and he stole that word,

He gives you virtue, but he stole that word

10 From thy behaviour, beauty doth he give

From your very conduct, beauty does he give

11 And found it in thy cheek: he can afford

And finds it in your face: he can offer

12 No praise to thee, but what in thee doth live.

No praise to you except what already lives in you.

13 Then thank him not for that which he doth say,

So do not thank him for what he says,

14 Since what he owes thee, thou thyself dost pay.

Since what he owes you, you yourself already give.

The Economy of Poetic Theft

Sonnet 79 performs an intellectual reversal: the rival poet is not a threat but a thief who steals and returns, creating a circular economy. He 'robs thee of, and pays it thee again'—taking the beloved's virtue and fashioning it into praise. This is elegant philosophy but also evasion. By insisting the rival only recirculates what already exists in the beloved, the speaker diminishes the rival's creativity while also diminishing his own. If all praise is merely reflection of intrinsic beauty, then the speaker's own verses are equally derivative. The consolation that 'no praise to thee, but what in thee doth live' might comfort the beloved but leaves the speaker displaced. He has become irrelevant to a process that is purely between the beloved and their own beauty.

The Decline of the Speaker's Muse

Line 3-4 are devastating: 'But now my gracious numbers are decayed, / And my sick muse doth give an other place.' The speaker's verse has literally sickened because the muse has been divided. This reflects a psychological crisis: if the beloved's inspiration can flow to multiple poets, it is not the speaker's alone. The beloved is not 'possession' but a universal good, available to anyone with the eloquence to ask. The speaker's previous confidence (78) that he alone truly benefits from the beloved's presence collapses. The muse does not belong to him. The beloved's attention is divisible. And this knowledge has made his verse sick—not because he lacks talent but because the foundation of his inspiration (exclusive access, singular devotion) has been undermined.

If this happened today

An artist watches someone else's work go viral with their muse as subject. They think: 'Well, technically everything they say about you is yours already. They're just reflecting what you already are. But that doesn't help me. I've lost my exclusive access to your inspiration.' The philosophy rings true but doesn't ease the wound.

← Sonnet 78 All Sonnets Sonnet 80 →