Matthew Crook's profile

Shakespeare's Sonnets I–XX

William Shakespeare is primarily known for the plays that he wrote. But he also wrote poetry, including 154 sonnets. The English sonnet has a very specific form. It has fourteen lines, organized into three quatrains (stanzas with four lines) followed by a couplet (a stanza with two lines). The meter is iambic pentameter and the rhyme scheme is ABAB CDCD EFEF GG. The narrative structure of the English sonnet also follows a pattern. The first quatrain is sometimes called the proposition because it introduces an idea or problem that serves as the focus of the poem. The second and third quatrains further develop that idea or problem. At the end of the third quatrain is a volta ("turn") that changes the tone or direction of the poem so that the final couplet can act as the "resolution".

I wanted to see how Stable Diffusion would interpret Shakespeare's sonnets. For each sonnet, I submitted each quatrain and the couplet separately, which produced for images for each. I accepted the first output unless it had objectionable content or had defects (see below). This post contains the results for sonnets 1–20 by Shakespeare, along with the text, for comparison.

Perhaps not surprisingly, Stable Diffusion sometimes struggled with the archaic language of Shakespeare. But in the process some interesting patterns emerged. All of these could be considered defects in how AIs currently generate art.

Fixations
Just like there are people who get fixated on one thing, AIs can become hyperfocused on certain terms to the exclusion of the rest of the prompt.

In this project, there were certain words that, if present, had an inordinate influence on the final image produced. For example, any time the verb "bear" appeared in the prompt, Stable Diffusion added a bear (the animal) to the image. Admittedly, this usage is uncommon in modern English, but it still reveals that some words matter more to the AI than others. Another example of this is the word "eye". Almost every time that the word "eye" appeared in the prompt, Stable Diffusion drew a giant eyeball, no matter what else the prompt said.

Fixations could be due to incomplete language training or due to overrepresentation of certain topics in the training dataset.

Tics
In humans, tics are unwanted and uncontrollable behaviors, like coprolalia or an eye twitch. In AI art, it manifests as the AI adding things to an image that were not part of the prompt. To create art there must be some degree of flexibility, so unwanted elements are only considered tics if they consistently appear without being requested. Tics are distinct from defects, like extra fingers or crossed eyes.

This project revealed several tics in the instantiation of Stable Diffusion that I was using [Imagine v4(Beta) by vyro.ai]. First, almost every time that it drew a human character, it added some kind of filigree to the cheekbones (and sometimes the forehead) of that character. Second, it frequently drew leaves or feathers (I couldn't always tell which and I'm not sure that Stable Diffusion could, either) on human and animal characters. Third, it often drew giant heads emerging from landscapes. Fourth, Stable Diffusion often returned an image of a piece of paper with the requested drawing on it and pencils or pens lying on the paper, partially obscuring the requested drawing. Outside of this project, I've also seen Stable Diffusion draw giant mushroom-shaped objects when it is asked to draw an alien landscape. These things regularly showed up even though they weren't asked for.

Tics could be due to overrepresentation of certain image types in the training dataset.

Blocks
When humans experience an unwanted thought or memory, they may create a mental block that prevents them from recalling it. Likewise, AI art generators may consistently fail to recognize a term and render it as art.

Because I used complex prompts for this project, I don't have specific examples from this project because I used such complex prompts. However, I have found that the instantiation of Stable Diffusion that I use has terms that it doesn't recognize (like "arrowhead" and "anvil"). Or, for example, if I ask it for a bleeding heart, I always get a heart shape with blood dripping from it; never the organ with blood dripping from it or the flower.

Blocks can be due to underrepresentation of certain topics in the training set or through deliberate filtering on the part of the service provider (e.g., filtering out adult content).

Defects
Defects are obvious distortions in the final art product that lack aesthetic value. Where tics add unwanted artistic elements, defects just make the final product look garbled, incomplete, or even disturbing.

In this project I actively discarded images that had defects like extra fingers, extra limbs, two right hands, crossed eyes, garbled writing, etc., but there are probably some that I missed. Outside of this project, I have found that the instantiation of Stable Diffusion that I use has terms that it recognizes but (usually) can't produce accurately (like "lawnmower", "chainsaw", "walking frame", "unicorn", and "centaur").

Defects are most likely due to a failure to form an accurate model of a topic during training.



Sonnet I
From fairest creatures we desire increase,
That thereby beauty's rose might never die,
But as the riper should by time decrease,
His tender heir might bear his memory:

But thou, contracted to thine own bright eyes,
Feed'st thy light'st flame with self-substantial fuel,
Making a famine where abundance lies,
Thyself thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel.

Thou that art now the world's fresh ornament
And only herald to the gaudy spring,
Within thine own bud buriest thy content
And, tender churl, makest waste in niggarding.

Pity the world, or else this glutton be,
To eat the world's due, by the grave and thee.


Sonnet II
​​​​​​​When forty winters shall besiege thy brow
And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field,
Thy youth's proud livery, so gazed on now,
Will be a tattered weed of small worth held.

Then being asked where all thy beauty lies,
Where all the treasure of thy lusty days,
To say within thine own deep-sunken eyes
Were an all-eating shame and thriftless praise.

How much more praise deserved thy beauty's use
If thou couldst answer "This fair child of mine
Shall sum my count and make my old excuse,"
Proving his beauty by succession thine.

This were to be new made when thou art old
And see thy blood warm when thou feel'st it cold.



Sonnet III
​​​​​​​Look in thy glass and tell the face thou viewest
Now is the time that face should form another,
Whose fresh repair if now thou not renewest,
Thou dost beguile the world, unbless some mother.

For where is she so fair whose uneared womb
Disdains the tillage of thy husbandry?
Or who is he so fond will be the tomb
Of his self-love, to stop posterity?

Thou art thy mother's glass, and she in thee
Calls back the lovely April of her prime;
So thou through windows of thine age shalt see,
Despite of wrinkles, this thy golden time.

But if thou live remembered not to be,
Die single, and thine image dies with thee.



Sonnet IV
​​​​​​​Unthrifty loveliness, why dost thou spend
Upon thyself thy beauty's legacy?
Nature's bequest gives nothing but doth lend,
And being frank, she lends to those are free.

Then, beauteous niggard, why dost thou abuse
The bounteous largess given thee to give?
Profitless usurer, why dost thou use
So great a sum of sums yet canst not live?

For, having traffic with thyself alone,
Thou of thyself thy sweet self dost deceive.
Then how, when nature calls thee to be gone,
What acceptable audit canst thou leave?

Thy unused beauty must be tombed with thee,
Which usèd lives th' executor to be.



Sonnet V
​​​​​​​Those hours that with gentle work did frame
The lovely gaze where every eye doth dwell
Will play the tyrants to the very same
And that unfair which fairly doth excel;

For never-resting time leads summer on
To hideous winter and confounds him there,
Sap checked with frost and lusty leaves quite gone,
Beauty o'er-snowed and bareness everywhere.

Then, were not summer's distillation left
A liquid prisoner pent in walls of glass,
Beauty's effect with beauty were bereft,
Nor it nor no remembrance what it was.

But flowers distilled, though they with winter meet,
Leese but their show; their substance still lives sweet.


Sonnet VI
Then let not winter's ragged hand deface
In thee thy summer ere thou be distilled.
Make sweet some vial; treasure thou some place
With beauty's treasure ere it be self-killed.

That use is not forbidden usury
Which happies those that pay the willing loan;
That's for thyself to breed another thee,
Or ten times happier, be it ten for one.

Ten times thyself were happier than thou art
If ten of thine ten times refigured thee;
Then what could death do if thou shouldst depart,
Leaving thee living in posterity?

Be not self-willed, for thou art much too fair
To be death's conquest and make worms thine heir.


Sonnet VII
​​​​​​​Lo, in the orient when the gracious light
Lifts up his burning head, each under eye
Doth homage to his new-appearing sight,
Serving with looks his sacred majesty;

And having climbed the steep-up heavenly hill,
Resembling strong youth in his middle age,
Yet mortal looks adore his beauty still,
Attending on his golden pilgrimage.

But when from highmost pitch with weary car
Like feeble age he reeleth from the day,
The eyes, 'fore duteous, now converted are
From his low tract and look another way.

So thou, thyself outgoing in thy noon,
Unlooked on diest unless thou get a son.


Sonnet VIII
​​​​​​​Music to hear, why hear'st thou music sadly?
Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy.
Why lov'st thou that which thou receiv'st not gladly,
Or else receiv'st with pleasure thine annoy?

If the true concord of well-tunèd sounds,
By unions married, do offend thine ear,
They do but sweetly chide thee, who confounds
In singleness the parts that thou shouldst bear.

Mark how one string, sweet husband to another,
Strikes each in each by mutual ordering,
Resembling sire and child and happy mother
Who, all in one, one pleasing note do sing;

Whose speechless song, being many, seeming one,
Sings this to thee: "Thou single wilt prove none."


Sonnet IX
Is it for fear to wet a widow's eye
That thou consum'st thyself in single life?
Ah, if thou issueless shalt hap to die,
The world will wail thee like a makeless wife;

The world will be thy widow and still weep
That thou no form of thee hast left behind,
When every private widow well may keep,
By children's eyes, her husband's shape in mind.

Look what an unthrift in the world doth spend
Shifts but his place, for still the world enjoys it;
But beauty's waste hath in the world an end,
And, kept unused, the user so destroys it.

No love toward others in that bosom sits
That on himself such murd'rous shame commits.


Sonnet X
For shame deny that thou bear'st love to any,
Who for thyself art so unprovident.
Grant, if thou wilt, thou art beloved of many,
But that thou none lov'st is most evident.

For thou art so possessed with murd'rous hate
That 'gainst thyself thou stick'st not to conspire,
Seeking that beauteous roof to ruinate
Which to repair should be thy chief desire.

O, change thy thought, that I may change my mind.
Shall hate be fairer lodged than gentle love?
Be as thy presence is, gracious and kind,
Or to thyself at least kind-hearted prove.

Make thee another self for love of me,
That beauty still may live in thine or thee.



Sonnet XI
As fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou grow'st
In one of thine, from that which thou departest;
And that fresh blood which youngly thou bestow'st
Thou mayst call thine when thou from youth convertest.

Herein lives wisdom, beauty, and increase;
Without this, folly, age, and cold decay.
If all were minded so, the times should cease,
And threescore year would make the world away.

Let those whom nature hath not made for store,
Harsh, featureless, and rude, barrenly perish;
Look whom she best endowed she gave the more,
Which bounteous gift thou shouldst in bounty cherish.

She carved thee for her seal, and meant thereby
Thou shouldst print more, not let that copy die.



Sonnet XII
When I do count the clock that tells the time,
And see the brave day sunk in hideous night;
When I behold the violet past prime,
And sable curls, all silvered o'er with white;

When lofty trees I see barren of leaves,
Which erst from heat did canopy the herd,
And summer's green all girded up in sheaves,
Borne on the bier with white and bristly beard,

Then of thy beauty do I question make,
That thou among the wastes of time must go,
Since sweets and beauties do themselves forsake
And die as fast as they see others grow;

And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe can make defence
Save breed, to brave him when he takes thee hence.


Sonnet XIII
O! that you were your self; but, love, you are
No longer yours, than you your self here live:
Against this coming end you should prepare,
And your sweet semblance to some other give:

So should that beauty which you hold in lease
Find no determination; then you were
Yourself again, after yourself's decease,
When your sweet issue your sweet form should bear.

Who lets so fair a house fall to decay,
Which husbandry in honour might uphold,
Against the stormy gusts of winter's day
And barren rage of death's eternal cold?

O! none but unthrifts. Dear my love, you know,
You had a father: let your son say so.


Sonnet XIV
Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck;
And yet methinks I have Astronomy,
But not to tell of good or evil luck,
Of plagues, of dearths, or seasons' quality;

Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell,
Pointing to each his thunder, rain and wind,
Or say with princes if it shall go well
By oft predict that I in heaven find:

But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive,
And, constant stars, in them I read such art
As truth and beauty shall together thrive,
If from thyself, to store thou wouldst convert;

Or else of thee this I prognosticate:
Thy end is truth's and beauty's doom and date.


Sonnet XV
When I consider every thing that grows
Holds in perfection but a little moment,
That this huge stage presenteth nought but shows
Whereon the stars in secret influence comment;

When I perceive that men as plants increase,
Cheered and checked even by the self-same sky,
Vaunt in their youthful sap, at height decrease,
And wear their brave state out of memory;

Then the conceit of this inconstant stay
Sets you most rich in youth before my sight,
Where wasteful Time debateth with decay
To change your day of youth to sullied night,

And all in war with Time for love of you,
As he takes from you, I engraft you new.


Sonnet XVI
But wherefore do not you a mightier way
Make war upon this bloody tyrant, Time?
And fortify your self in your decay
With means more blessed than my barren rhyme?

Now stand you on the top of happy hours,
And many maiden gardens, yet unset,
With virtuous wish would bear you living flowers,
Much liker than your painted counterfeit:

So should the lines of life that life repair,
Which this, Time's pencil, or my pupil pen,
Neither in inward worth nor outward fair,
Can make you live your self in eyes of men.

To give away yourself, keeps yourself still,
And you must live, drawn by your own sweet skill.


Sonnet XVII
Who will believe my verse in time to come,
If it were filled with your most high deserts?
Though yet heaven knows it is but as a tomb
Which hides your life, and shows not half your parts.

If I could write the beauty of your eyes,
And in fresh numbers number all your graces,
The age to come would say 'This poet lies;
Such heavenly touches ne'er touched earthly faces.'

So should my papers, yellowed with their age,
Be scorned, like old men of less truth than tongue,
And your true rights be termed a poet's rage
And stretched metre of an antique song:

But were some child of yours alive that time,
You should live twice, in it, and in my rhyme.


Sonnet XVIII
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed,
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature's changing course untrimmed:

But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st,
Nor shall death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st,

So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.


Sonnet XIX
Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion's paws,
And make the earth devour her own sweet brood;
Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tiger's jaws,
And burn the long-lived phoenix in her blood;

Make glad and sorry seasons as thou fleet'st,
And do whate'er thou wilt, swift-footed Time,
To the wide world and all her fading sweets;
But I forbid thee one most heinous crime:

O! carve not with thy hours my love's fair brow,
Nor draw no lines there with thine antique pen;
Him in thy course untainted do allow
For beauty's pattern to succeeding men.

Yet, do thy worst old Time: despite thy wrong,
My love shall in my verse ever live young.


Sonnet XX
A woman's face with nature's own hand painted,
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.



These illustrations were drawn using Stable Diffusion 2.1.
The sonnets were originally written by William Shakespeare.
Shakespeare's Sonnets I–XX
Published: