Sonnet · Dark Lady Sonnets

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.

What it's about

A lover sick with obsession knows his passion is killing him but can't stop feeding it. Reason has fled. He's deliberately chosen suffering over health, and in his final lines, he confronts the lie he's been living—she was never the angel he made her out to be.

In plain English

The speaker's love for the dark lady is like a fever that feeds on itself—he craves the very thing that makes his sickness worse, trapped in a cycle of self-harm. His reason, which should heal him like a doctor, has given up and abandoned him because he refuses to follow its cure.

Now he's lost all hope. Reason has stopped trying to save him, and he's spiraling into madness—his thoughts scatter like a lunatic's, wild and untethered from truth. He's aware of his delusion: he swore she was beautiful and radiant, but she's actually cruel and dark as night.

Lines that stick

  • My love is as a fever longing still, / For that which longer nurseth the disease
  • Desire is death, which physic did except
  • For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright, / Who art as black as hell, as dark as night

Themes

  • love as sickness
  • self-deception
  • dark lady
  • madness
  • loss of reason
In the app

Tap any word to see it explained.

The Fluid Shakespeare app surfaces the glossary inline as you read — no popup, no flow break.

Download on the App Store Get it on Google Play