longing still for that which longer nurseth the disease

PARAPHRASE. My reason, the physician to my love, Angry that his prescriptions are not kept, Hath left me, and I desperate now … Angry that his prescriptions are not kept, Hath left me, and I desperate now approve. Venus and Adonis [But, lo! For that which longer nurseth the disease, Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill, The uncertain sickly appetite to please. Desire is death, which physic did except. Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill. --from The Merchant of Venice Where the bee sucks, there suck I: In a cowslip's bell I lie; There I couch when owls do cry. 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.” The word is ambiguous, for it suggests two opposites, 'brings back to health', and 'tends carefully, so that it (the illness) stays'. 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. that which etc. 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, The uncertain sickly appetite to please. Sonnet CXLVII. For that which longer nurseth the disease; Feeding on that which doth preserve the sill. My reason, the physician to my love, Angry that his prescriptions are not kept, Hath left me, and I … 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 … nurseth = nurses. My love is as a fever, longing still. Tis' better to have loved and lost, then never to have loved at all. = the unsuitable food or drink which caused the disease initially. Sonnet 147, by William Shakespeare. While William Shakespeare’s reputation is based primarily on his plays, he became famous first as a poet. 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. 'Tis better to have loved and lost (ba-ba-ba ba-ba-ba-ba) 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. Longing still, for that which longer nurseth the disease In faith, I do not love thee Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? My love is as a fever, longing still. My love is as a fever, longing still. My reason, the physician to my love, Angry that his prescriptions are not kept, Hath left me, and I desperate now approve Desire is … The proximity of longing and longer makes it seem as if the patient longs to prolong his illness. William Shakespeare, regarded as the foremost dramatist of his time, wrote more than thirty plays and more than one hundred sonnets, all written in the form of three quatrains and a couplet that is now recognized as Shakespearean. Line 2. SONNET 147. My reason, the physician to my love, Angry that his prescriptions are not kept, Hath left me, and I desperate now … A B A B 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. 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. STUDY. Song of the Witches: “Double, double toil and trouble”, Sonnet 15: When I consider everything that grows. C D C D 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. Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? A summary of Part X (Section9) in William Shakespeare's Shakespeare’s Sonnets. For that which longer nurseth the disease, Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill, The uncertain sickly appetite to please. Let us all ring Fancy's knell: I'll begin it,--Ding, dong, bell! from forth a copse], As You Like It, Act II, Scene VII [Blow, blow, thou winter wind]. 2. Angry that his prescriptions are not kept, Hath left me, and I desperate now approve. Translation 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 faith, I do not love thee. Tell me where is Fancy bred, Or in the heart or in the head? 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 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. 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 thoughts and my discourse as madmen’s are. appetite to please... "My reason, the physician to my love, Angry that his prescriptions are not kept, How begot, how nourishèd? 1 Answers. Sonnet 18: Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill, Who art as black as hell, as dark as night. Picard My love is a fever, longing still for that which no longer nurseth the disease. My love is as a fever, longing still. 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 … I do love America but, to quote one of my own countrymen, "my love is as a fever, longing still for that which longer nurseth the disease." For that which longer nurseth the disease; longer = for a longer time. 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 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. 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