Matthew Crook's profile

Shakespeare's Sonnets C–CXX

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 101–120 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 CI
O truant Muse what shall be thy amends
For thy neglect of truth in beauty dyed?
Both truth and beauty on my love depends;
So dost thou too, and therein dignified.

Make answer Muse: wilt thou not haply say,
'Truth needs no colour, with his colour fixed;
Beauty no pencil, beauty's truth to lay;
But best is best, if never intermixed'?

Because he needs no praise, wilt thou be dumb?
Excuse not silence so, for't lies in thee
To make him much outlive a gilded tomb
And to be praised of ages yet to be.

Then do thy office, Muse; I teach thee how
To make him seem, long hence, as he shows now.


Sonnet CII
My love is strengthened, though more weak in seeming;
I love not less, though less the show appear;
That love is merchandized, whose rich esteeming,
The owner's tongue doth publish every where.

Our love was new, and then but in the spring,
When I was wont to greet it with my lays;
As Philomel in summer's front doth sing,
And stops his pipe in growth of riper days:

Not that the summer is less pleasant now
Than when her mournful hymns did hush the night,
But that wild music burthens every bough,
And sweets grown common lose their dear delight.

Therefore like her, I sometime hold my tongue:
Because I would not dull you with my song.


Sonnet CIII
Alack! what poverty my Muse brings forth,
That having such a scope to show her pride,
The argument all bare is of more worth
Than when it hath my added praise beside!

O! blame me not, if I no more can write!
Look in your glass, and there appears a face
That over-goes my blunt invention quite,
Dulling my lines, and doing me disgrace.

Were it not sinful then, striving to mend,
To mar the subject that before was well?
For to no other pass my verses tend
Than of your graces and your gifts to tell;

And more, much more, than in my verse can sit,
Your own glass shows you when you look in it.


Sonnet CIV
To me, fair friend, you never can be old,
For as you were when first your eye I ey'd,
Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold,
Have from the forests shook three summers' pride,

Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn turned,
In process of the seasons have I seen,
Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burned,
Since first I saw you fresh, which yet are green.

Ah! yet doth beauty like a dial-hand,
Steal from his figure, and no pace perceived;
So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth stand,
Hath motion, and mine eye may be deceived:

For fear of which, hear this thou age unbred:
Ere you were born was beauty's summer dead.


Sonnet CV
Let not my love be called idolatry,
Nor my beloved as an idol show,
Since all alike my songs and praises be
To one, of one, still such, and ever so.

Kind is my love to-day, to-morrow kind,
Still constant in a wondrous excellence;
Therefore my verse to constancy confined,
One thing expressing, leaves out difference.

Fair, kind, and true, is all my argument,
Fair, kind, and true, varying to other words;
And in this change is my invention spent,
Three themes in one, which wondrous scope affords.

Fair, kind, and true, have often lived alone,
Which three till now, never kept seat in one.


Sonnet CVI
When in the chronicle of wasted time
I see descriptions of the fairest wights,
And beauty making beautiful old rhyme,
In praise of ladies dead and lovely knights,

Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty's best,
Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow,
I see their antique pen would have expressed
Even such a beauty as you master now.

So all their praises are but prophecies
Of this our time, all you prefiguring;
And for they looked but with divining eyes,
They had not skill enough your worth to sing:

For we, which now behold these present days,
Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise.


Sonnet CVII
Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul
Of the wide world dreaming on things to come,
Can yet the lease of my true love control,
Supposed as forfeit to a confined doom.

The mortal moon hath her eclipse endured,
And the sad augurs mock their own presage;
Incertainties now crown themselves assured,
And peace proclaims olives of endless age.

Now with the drops of this most balmy time,
My love looks fresh, and Death to me subscribes,
Since, spite of him, I'll live in this poor rhyme,
While he insults o'er dull and speechless tribes:

And thou in this shalt find thy monument,
When tyrants' crests and tombs of brass are spent.


Sonnet CVIII
What's in the brain that ink may character
Which hath not figured to thee my true spirit?
What's new to speak, what now to register,
That may express my love, or thy dear merit?

Nothing, sweet boy; but yet, like prayers divine,
I must each day say o'er the very same;
Counting no old thing old, thou mine, I thine,
Even as when first I hallowed thy fair name.

So that eternal love in love's fresh case,
Weighs not the dust and injury of age,
Nor gives to necessary wrinkles place,
But makes antiquity for aye his page;

Finding the first conceit of love there bred,
Where time and outward form would show it dead.


Sonnet CIX
O! never say that I was false of heart,
Though absence seemed my flame to qualify,
As easy might I from my self depart
As from my soul which in thy breast doth lie:

That is my home of love: if I have ranged,
Like him that travels, I return again;
Just to the time, not with the time exchanged,
So that myself bring water for my stain.

Never believe though in my nature reigned,
All frailties that besiege all kinds of blood,
That it could so preposterously be stained,
To leave for nothing all thy sum of good;

For nothing this wide universe I call,
Save thou, my rose, in it thou art my all.


Sonnet CX
Alas! 'tis true, I have gone here and there,
And made my self a motley to the view,
Gored mine own thoughts, sold cheap what is most dear,
Made old offences of affections new;

Most true it is, that I have looked on truth
Askance and strangely; but, by all above,
These blenches gave my heart another youth,
And worse essays proved thee my best of love.

Now all is done, have what shall have no end:
Mine appetite I never more will grind
On newer proof, to try an older friend,
A god in love, to whom I am confined.

Then give me welcome, next my heaven the best,
Even to thy pure and most most loving breast.


Sonnet CXI
O! for my sake do you with Fortune chide,
The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds,
That did not better for my life provide
Than public means which public manners breeds.

Thence comes it that my name receives a brand,
And almost thence my nature is subdued
To what it works in, like the dyer's hand:
Pity me, then, and wish I were renewed;

Whilst, like a willing patient, I will drink
Potions of eisel 'gainst my strong infection;
No bitterness that I will bitter think,
Nor double penance, to correct correction.

Pity me then, dear friend, and I assure ye,
Even that your pity is enough to cure me.


Sonnet CXII
Your love and pity doth the impression fill,
Which vulgar scandal stamped upon my brow;
For what care I who calls me well or ill,
So you o'er-green my bad, my good allow?

You are my all-the-world, and I must strive
To know my shames and praises from your tongue;
None else to me, nor I to none alive,
That my steeled sense or changes right or wrong.

In so profound abysm I throw all care
Of others' voices, that my adder's sense
To critic and to flatterer stopped are.
Mark how with my neglect I do dispense:

You are so strongly in my purpose bred,
That all the world besides methinks y'are dead.


Sonnet CXIII
Since I left you, mine eye is in my mind;
And that which governs me to go about
Doth part his function and is partly blind,
Seems seeing, but effectually is out;

For it no form delivers to the heart
Of bird, of flower, or shape which it doth latch:
Of his quick objects hath the mind no part,
Nor his own vision holds what it doth catch;

For if it see the rud'st or gentlest sight,
The most sweet favour or deformed'st creature,
The mountain or the sea, the day or night,
The crow, or dove, it shapes them to your feature.

Incapable of more, replete with you,
My most true mind thus maketh mine eye untrue.


Sonnet CXIV
Or whether doth my mind, being crowned with you,
Drink up the monarch's plague, this flattery?
Or whether shall I say, mine eye saith true,
And that your love taught it this alchemy,

To make of monsters and things indigest
Such cherubins as your sweet self resemble,
Creating every bad a perfect best,
As fast as objects to his beams assemble?

O! 'tis the first, 'tis flattery in my seeing,
And my great mind most kingly drinks it up:
Mine eye well knows what with his gust is 'greeing,
And to his palate doth prepare the cup:

If it be poisoned, 'tis the lesser sin
That mine eye loves it and doth first begin.


Sonnet CXV
Those lines that I before have writ do lie,
Even those that said I could not love you dearer:
Yet then my judgment knew no reason why
My most full flame should afterwards burn clearer.

But reckoning Time, whose million'd accidents
Creep in 'twixt vows, and change decrees of kings,
Tan sacred beauty, blunt the sharp'st intents,
Divert strong minds to the course of altering things;

Alas! why, fearing of Time's tyranny,
Might I not then say, 'Now I love you best,'
When I was certain o'er incertainty,
Crowning the present, doubting of the rest?

Love is a babe, then might I not say so,
To give full growth to that which still doth grow?


Sonnet CXVI
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:

O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark,
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.

Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.


Sonnet CXVII
Accuse me thus: that I have scanted all,
Wherein I should your great deserts repay,
Forgot upon your dearest love to call,
Whereto all bonds do tie me day by day;

That I have frequent been with unknown minds,
And given to time your own dear-purchased right;
That I have hoisted sail to all the winds
Which should transport me farthest from your sight.

Book both my wilfulness and errors down,
And on just proof surmise accumulate;
Bring me within the level of your frown,
But shoot not at me in your wakened hate;

Since my appeal says I did strive to prove
The constancy and virtue of your love.


Sonnet CXVIII
Like as, to make our appetites more keen,
With eager compounds we our palate urge;
As, to prevent our maladies unseen,
We sicken to shun sickness when we purge;

Even so, being full of your ne'er-cloying sweetness,
To bitter sauces did I frame my feeding;
And, sick of welfare, found a kind of meetness
To be diseased, ere that there was true needing.

Thus policy in love, to anticipate
The ills that were not, grew to faults assured,
And brought to medicine a healthful state
Which, rank of goodness, would by ill be cured;

But thence I learn and find the lesson true,
Drugs poison him that so fell sick of you.


Sonnet CXIX
What potions have I drunk of Siren tears,
Distilled from limbecks foul as hell within,
Applying fears to hopes, and hopes to fears,
Still losing when I saw myself to win!

What wretched errors hath my heart committed,
Whilst it hath thought itself so blessed never!
How have mine eyes out of their spheres been fitted,
In the distraction of this madding fever!

O benefit of ill! now I find true
That better is by evil still made better;
And ruined love, when it is built anew,
Grows fairer than at first, more strong, far greater.

So I return rebuked to my content,
And gain by ills thrice more than I have spent.


Sonnet CXX
That you were once unkind befriends me now,
And for that sorrow, which I then did feel,
Needs must I under my transgression bow,
Unless my nerves were brass or hammered steel.

For if you were by my unkindness shaken,
As I by yours, you've passed a hell of time;
And I, a tyrant, have no leisure taken
To weigh how once I suffered in your crime.

O! that our night of woe might have remembered
My deepest sense, how hard true sorrow hits,
And soon to you, as you to me, then tendered
The humble salve, which wounded bosoms fits!

But that your trespass now becomes a fee;
Mine ransoms yours, and yours must ransom me.




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