Sonnet 29 When in disgrace

William Shakespeare

When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possess'd,
Desiring this man's art and that man's scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;
      For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings
      That then I scorn to change my state with kings.

About the Poem

First published in 1609, When in disgrace is thought to have been written around 1592.

It was a time when Shakespeare was shifting his income from theatre to poetry.

He had been attacked in print (as an "upstart crow") by a respected playwright.

In Elizabethan London, it was very much who you knew, not what you knew, that decided your fate.

In his late 20's, he may have had some doubts and fears.

About William Shakespeare 1564 - 1616

Well, our Billy knocked up Anne Hathaway.

Being only 18, eight years her junior, he needed parental permission to marry her.

He was 24 when the Spanish Armada threatened England.

By then, William was a successful actor and playwright in London.

When the plague of 1592 closed all the theaters (sound familiar?) he shifted to writing poetry, where he was equally successful supporting his family.

After that plague, he helped found the Lord Chamberlain's Men, one of the leading official touring companies, performing at Elizabeth's court over 170 times.

His family, including son Hamnet, who died aged 11, and daughters, Susanna, and Judith, remained in Stratford.

He retired to a comfortable home, New Place, in Stratford, where he died, aged 52.

His grave carries no name, just the words:
"Good friend, for Jesus’ sake forbear,
To dig the dust enclosed here.
Blessed be the man that spares these stones,
And cursed be he that moves my bones."

Special

Barbara, this poem always makes me think of you.