A woman's face with nature's own hand painted,The whole "master mistress of my passion" thing draws a lot of attention... but the last two lines, which basically say, "You've got a nice penis that women really like, so go stick it to them but save the emotional love for me," put "Sonnet 20" over the edge.
Hast thou, the master mistress of my passion;
A woman's gentle heart, but not acquainted
With shifting change, as is false women's fashion:
An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling,
Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth;
A man in hue all hues in his controlling,
Which steals men's eyes and women's souls amazeth.
And for a woman wert thou first created;
Till Nature, as she wrought thee, fell a-doting,
And by addition me of thee defeated,
By adding one thing to my purpose nothing.
But since she prick'd thee out for women's pleasure,
Mine be thy love and thy love's use their treasure.
So did he [York] turn and over Suffolk's neckNow, again, merely writing about two men kissing as they die to express their lifelong love doesn't mean the person writing is gay. Every week I write a list of NFL picks -- that doesn't make me a football player, a Greek or Professor Pigskin.
He threw his wounded arm and kiss'd his lips;
And so espoused to death, with blood he seal'd
A testament of noble-ending love.
I shall have also cause to speak,VERY dubious. This is like listening to Beatles songs for hidden backwards messages. Or searching for the word "sex" in the clouds in Disney movies.
And from his mouth whose voice will draw on
more; But let this same be presently perform'd,Even while men's minds
are wild; lest more mischance On plots and errors,
happen. Let four captains Bear Hamlet, like a soldier, to the stage;
For he was likely, had he been put
on, To have proved
most royally: and, for his passage, The soldiers' music and the rites
of war Speak loudly for him. Take up the bodies:
such a sight as this Becomes the field, but here shows much amiss.
Go, bid the soldiers shoot. A dead march.
unt, bearing off the dead bodies;
after which a pea
l of ordnance is shot off.
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?Well... as the 18th sonnet, it's part of the 126 sonnets directed at a man. The summer's day is a man. (Obviously. The summer's eve would've been a woman. Muted and ashamed hi-yo.)
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,Is the "his" a reference to summer? Yes. Could the "his" also be Shakespeare playing with pronouns to send a shout-out to his special guy? Absolutely. Do we have to meet him more than halfway to reach that conclusion? Probably.
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
THERSITESTwo things here. One, if today's politicians have taught us anything, it's that the people who condemn homosexuality the loudest are the ones who are, by far, the most likely to get caught with a man in an airport, truck stop or public park bathroom.
Prithee, be silent, boy; I profit not by thy talk: thou art thought to be Achilles' male varlet.
Male varlet, you rogue! what's that?
Why, his masculine whore. Now, the rotten diseases of the south, the guts-griping, ruptures, catarrhs, loads o' gravel i' the back, lethargies, cold palsies, raw eyes, dirt-rotten livers, wheezing lungs, bladders full of imposthume, sciaticas, limekilns i' the palm, incurable bone-ache, and the rivelled fee-simple of the tetter, take and take again such preposterous discoveries!
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