The speaker starts with a frustrated, direct question: “What? Dost thou mean to cheat me of my heart?” He feels robbed, as if the beloved has taken his entire heart and given nothing back. He half-wonders if her eyes have some magic or art that hoards whatever they get. He pleads with her not to be a tyrant — to show a little pity, to soften her temper. Then he makes a desperate offer: if she can’t be kind, at least they could exchange a piece of her heart for his whole one. But immediately he checks himself, knowing it’s useless. Her breast is proof against any complaint or prayer; her proud beauty is what first betrayed him. By the end, the mood twists from a wounded, bargaining plea into something colder. He realizes there’s no heart to talk about — she has none, or at best a flinty one. The final lines land with a blunt, bitter certainty.
Sonnet LII: What? Dost Thou Mean — Summary
What? Dost thou mean to cheat me of my heart? To take all mine and give me none again? Or have thine eyes such magic or that art That what they get they ever do retain? Play not the tyrant, but take some remorse; Rebate thy spleen, if but for pity's sake; Or, cruel, if thou canst not, let us 'scourse, And, for one piece of thine, my whole heart take. But what of pity do I speak to thee, Whose breast is proof against complaint or prayer? Or can I think what my reward shall be From that proud beauty, which was my betrayer? What talk I of a heart, when thou hast none? Or, if thou hast, it is a flinty one.