from forth a copse], As You Like It, Act II, Scene VII [Blow, blow, thou winter wind]. STUDY. Who art as black as hell, as dark as night. My reason, the physician to my love, 5 Angry that his prescriptions are not kept, Hath left me, and I desperate now approve Desire is … appetite to please... "My reason, the physician to my love, Angry that his prescriptions are not kept, On the bat's back I do fly After summer merrily: Merrily, merrily, shall I live now, Under the blossom that hangs on the bough. SONNET 147. Sonnet 147 reveals a paradox within the poet, and perhaps the population at large, between desiring the exact sin or ill which makes one sickly, unstable, or less completely whole as an individual, and knowing the thing you desire, in this case the poet's mistress, is the very thing causing trouble. 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. For that which longer nurseth the disease, Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill, The uncertain sickly appetite to please. Sonnet CXLVII. Some things we were doing at the start of the pandemic are no longer necessary, and some still are by Sam Schipani December 3, 2020 December 3, 2020 Share this: People living in Scotland who describe themselves as being of an ethnic minority have a longer life expectancy than those describing themselves as White … Tis' better to have loved and lost, then never to have loved at all. My reason, the physician to my love, Angry that his prescriptions are not kept, Hath left me, and I desperate now … 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 love is like a fever, still longing. My reason, the physician to my love, Angry that his prescriptions are not kept, Hath left me, and I desperate now … My love is 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. The poet says his love is like a fever that still longs “My love is as a fever, longing still” for the very thing that prolongs his illness and woeful condition “For that which longer nurseth the disease,” It also thrives on the very reason for his illness “Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,” just to satisfy his own sickly desire “Th’ uncertain sickly appetite to please.” PLAY. Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill, My reason, the physician to my love, Angry that his prescriptions are not kept, Hath left me, and I desperate now … While William Shakespeare’s reputation is based primarily on his plays, he became famous first as a poet. Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill. In faith, I do not love thee. Song of the Witches: “Double, double toil and trouble”, Sonnet 15: When I consider everything that grows. PLAY. Perfect for acing essays, tests, and quizzes, as well as for writing lesson plans. 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 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. In other words, "I can't think myself better than all of you, if I become one of you." Desire is death, which physic did except. My reason, the physician to my love, Angry that his prescriptions are not kept, Hath left me, and I desperate now … Line 1. 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, … My love is as a fever, longing still For that which longer nurseth the disease; Feeding on that which doth preserve the sill, The uncertain sickly appetite to please. 5 My reason, the physician to my love, Angry that his prescriptions are not kept, Hath left me, and I desp'rate now approve Desire is death, which physic did except. Ding, dong, bell! My reason, the physician to my love, Angry that his prescriptions are not kept, Hath left me, and I desperate now approve. Lines 1-2 My love is as a fever, longing still For that which longer nurseth the disease, Hey, wait a minute. -from The Tempest, Lord Amiens, a musician, sings before Duke Senior's company, © Academy of American Poets, 75 Maiden Lane, Suite 901, New York, NY 10038. Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? For that which longer nurseth the disease, Line 3. The proximity of longing and longer makes it seem as if the patient longs to prolong his illness. 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, The uncertain sickly appetite to please. Scholar Don Paterson, like many other Shakespearean scholars, has proposed this particular sonnet was in part inspired by an ending passage in The Old Arcadia written by Sir Phillip Sydney, which reads, "Sicke to the … nurseth = nurses. 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, The uncertain sickly appetite to please. At random from the truth vainly expressed: For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright. 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