Sonnet 79

Whilst I alone did call upon thy ayde,

My verse alone had all thy gentle grace,

But now my gracious numbers are decayde,

And my sick Muse doth give an other place.


I grant (sweet love) thy lovely argument

Deserves the travaile of a worthier pen,

Yet what of thee thy Poet doth invent,

He robs thee of, and payes it thee againe.


He lends thee vertue, and he stole that word,

From thy behaviour; beautie doth he give

And found it in thy cheeke: he can affoord

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


Then thanke him not for that which he doth say,

Since what he owes thee, thou thy selfe doost pay.

Commentary

Address to his beloved concerning a rival poet

Changes to the original text: line 10, comma after 'behaviour' changed to semi-colon

This is the second poem to mention the rival poet.

In the first quatrain, the poet complains that another poet has taken his place.' Numbers' are verses.

In the second quatrain, the poet grants that the young man deserves a better pen to sing his praises, but points out that the other poet merely robs the young man himself of the quality on which he compliments him, and gives it him back in his verses.

The third quatrain continues the idea, commenting that the other poet stole beauty and virtue from the young man to then praise him in his poetry.

The final couplet expresses a similar thought, that the other poet deserves no praise since all he is doing is giving back what belongs to the young man anyway.

Light sophistical stuff, mildly amusing for the young man.