Shakespeare’s speaker watches his lover play a keyboard instrument, and the whole thing becomes a charming fit of jealousy. He adores her, calling her his “music,” but he can’t stand that the wooden keys — those “dancing chips” — get to feel her fingers while he doesn’t. He imagines the keys leaping up to kiss the soft inside of her hand, and he wishes his own lips could swap places with them. It’s a playful, almost silly frustration: the dead wood is “bless’d” with a touch he craves, and he blushes at the thought of how boldly it enjoys her. The mood is light and flirtatious, full of witty longing. By the final couplet, he half-jokingly surrenders — let the keys have her fingers, so long as he gets her lips. It’s a sonnet that turns simple envy into something tender and teasing.
Sonnet 128: How oft when thou, my music, music play'st — Summary
How oft when thou, my music, music play'st, Upon that blessed wood whose motion sounds With thy sweet fingers when thou gently sway'st The wiry concord that mine ear confounds, Do I envy those jacks that nimble leap, To kiss the tender inward of thy hand, Whilst my poor lips which should that harvest reap, At the wood's boldness by thee blushing stand! To be so tickled, they would change their state And situation with those dancing chips, O'er whom thy fingers walk with gentle gait, Making dead wood more bless'd than living lips. Since saucy jacks so happy are in this, Give them thy fingers, me thy lips to kiss.