New sonnets from Shakespeare.
One every five minutes.

My tongue-tied Muse in manners holds her still,
But thou art twice forsworn, to me love swearing;
Applying fears to hopes, and hopes to fears,
Thou art the fairest and most precious jewel.
Loving offenders thus I will excuse ye:
Though in our lives a separable spite,
And right perfection wrongfully disgrac'd,
I make my love engrafted, to this store:
So that eternal love in love's fresh case,
My deepest sense, how hard true sorrow hits,
Shall sum my count, and make my old excuse,'
if thou wouldst use the strength of all thy state!
   Take heed, dear heart, of this large privilege;
   I send them back again, and straight grow sad.

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