SONNET NO. 124
If my dear love were but the child of state,
It might for fortunes bastard be unfathered,
As subject to times love or to times hate,
Weeds among weeds or flowers with flowers gathered.
No it was builded far from accident,
It suffers not in smiling pomp, nor falls
Under the blow of thralled discontent,
Where to the inviting time our fashion calls:
It fears not policy that heretic,
Which works on leases of short number'd hours,
But all alone stands hugely politic
That it not grows with heat nor drowns with showers
To this I witness: call the fools of time,
Which die for goodness-who have lived for crime.
Note the repetition of the following words, we find-it,
it, time, time, times, times.
This sonnet refers to the first folio of the"Shakespeare" plays. It is not addressed to any individual-proved by the fact that in the second, fifth and sixth and ninth lines it is referred to as it and Bacon writes-" I witness to this that it was builded far from accident.
"It " is Bacon's brain child--the first folio--compiled and
built up with the greatest care to contain his numerous cipher
Francis Bacon in a letter to Sir Tobie Mathew, wrote- "I have constructed the machine. These works of the alphabet I send to you." And in his "Promus"he wrote "Tragedies and Comedies are made of one alphabet."