You have if you've read Macbeth:
First Witch:
A sailor's wife had chestnuts in her lap,
And munch'd, and munch'd, and munch'd:--
'Give me,' quoth I:
'Aroint thee, witch!' the rump-fed ronyon cries.
Her husband's to Aleppo gone, master o' the Tiger:
But in a sieve I'll thither sail,
And, like a rat without a tail,
I'll do, I'll do, and I'll do.
Second Witch
I'll give thee a wind.
First Witch
Thou'rt kind.
Third Witch
And I another.
First Witch
I myself have all the other.
And the very ports they blow,
All the quarters that they know
I' the shipman's card.
I will drain him dry as hay:
Sleep shall neither night nor day
Hang upon his pent-house lid;
He shall live a man forbid:
Weary se'nnights nine times nine
Shall he dwindle, peak and pine:
Though his bark cannot be lost,
Yet it shall be tempest-tost.
This is an example of what I was trying to say above. If you immerse yourself in a play (where you have context on your side) you get the vocabulary without even trying. I know most of the witches lines by heart. How? I don't know. They're just kind of cool and I've heard them a million times. So when I read the Sonnets (which I don't know nearly as well), I already have an intuitive grasp of their language. Read the plays. Know the plays. Love the plays. Then try the hard stuff.
Your problem with bark, by the way, is probably only a matter of spelling. There is still a kind of ship called a barque. Do the English really not know what a barque is anymore? Drake must be turning over in his watery grave.