Sonnet 130

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< Sonnet 130 >

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.
–William Shakespeare

Shakespeare's Sonnet CXXX mocks the conventions of the garish and flowery courtly sonnets in its realistic portrayal of his mistress. It was written if response to the sonnets written by Petrarch, which he wrote to his love Laura, which made idealized comparisons between a woman's beauty and natural imagery, such as by comparing her eyes to the sun or her hair to gold. Such imagery was already, and is still, considered cliché. Shakespeare, in a gentle and plain-spoken manner, shows the differences between such oft-used natural imagery of cliché comparison and his mistress. The first quatrain contains one such difference per line, while the second and third contain 1 every 2 lines. He composes his feelings of love by following the sonnet form and more importantly metre. Although he is detracting from his mistress' beauty, Shakespeare still retains a tone of gentleness and love.

I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;

The sonnet ends with an assertion that despite her imperfections, his beloved is as wonderful as any that has been falsely poeticized and compared by poets.

And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.

The conceit may have been inspired by George Gascoigne, who in Certayne Notes of Instruction concerning the making of verse wrote:

If I should undertake to wryte in prayse of a gentlewoman, I would neither praise hir christal eye, nor hir
cherrie lippe, &c. For these things are trita & obvia. But I would either finde some supernaturall cause wherby my
penne might walke in the superlative degree, or els I would undertake to aunswere for any imperfection that shee
hash, and thereupon rayse the prayse of hir commendacion.[citation needed]

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