Drayton’s speaker doesn’t apologize for being love-struck and unwise; he leans right into it. He points out that Love is still a baby, forever playing with shiny toys and chasing every passing feather, so it only makes sense that fools and children — and by extension, the speaker himself — would be his natural companions. He hasn’t grown any wiser with age, he says, and he asks onlookers not to laugh but to feel grateful they aren’t stuck in the same silly, enchanting mess. There’s a knowing, self-mocking glint in his voice. He’s not really ashamed; he’s gently prodding those who consider themselves above such foolishness. The closing couplet lands with a sly twist: sometimes, when fools and children are at play, they speak truths that reveal the so-called wise to be, in fact, the bigger fools. The whole mood is light, teasing, and disarmingly honest, like a friend admitting a ridiculous crush and daring you not to smile.
Sonnet XXII: With Fools and Children — Summary
To Folly
With fools and children, good discretion bears; Then, honest people, bear with Love and me, Nor older yet, nor wiser made by years, Amongst the rest of fools and children be; Love, still a baby, plays with gauds and toys, And, like a wanton, sports with every feather, And idiots still are running after boys, Then fools and children fitt'st to go together. He still as young as when he first was born, No wiser I than when as young as he; You that behold us, laugh us not to scorn; Give Nature thanks you are not such as we. Yet fools and children sometimes tell in play Some, wise in show, more fools indeed than they.