If there be nothing new, but that which is...
Sonnet 59If there be nothing new, but that which is
Hath been before, how are our brains beguiled, Which, labouring for invention, bear amiss The second burden of a former child. O, that record could with a backward look, Even of five hundred courses of the sun, Show me your image in some antique book, Since mind at first in character was done! That I might see what the old world could say To this composed wonder of your frame; Whether we are mended, or whe'er better they, Or whether revolution be the same. O, sure I am, the wits of former days To subjects worse have given admiring praise. |
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If nothing’s new, and everything gets repeated, how are we wasting our creative efforts, as if giving birth to a child twice over! If only I could page backwards through the last 500 years or so to find your picture in some old book - anything in written record, really - so that I could have a look at what the ancients would have said about this marvellous body of yours. I’d be able to see who’s better at descriptions, us or them – or perhaps we’re on a par. I’m pretty sure that people from long ago have given lavish praise to much less worthy subjects.