New sonnets from Shakespeare
Two every five minutes

Look in thy glass and tell the face thou viewest
Or as sweet-season'd showers are to the ground;
When hours have drain'd his blood and fill'd his brow
Have from the forests shook three summers' pride,
Against that time when thou shalt strangely pass,
And many maiden gardens, yet unset,
He learn'd but surety-like to write for me,
By seeing farther than the eye hath shown.
So should the lines of life that life repair,
Thou usurer, that putt'st forth all to use,
Or, being wrack'd, I am a worthless boat,
While he insults o'er dull and speechless tribes:
   O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy power
   Coral is far more red, than her lips red:

Before the golden tresses of the dead,
Thus is his cheek the map of days outworn,
Alack! what poverty my Muse brings forth,
Nor his own vision holds what it doth catch;
And you in Grecian tires are painted new:
In all external grace you have some part,
Thus can my love excuse the slow offence
How many a holy and obsequious tear
Cupid laid by his brand and fell asleep:
That he shall never cut from memory
And wherefore say not I that I am old?
Describe Adonis, and the counterfeit
   Who leaves unsway'd the likeness of a man,
   But sad mortality o'ersways their power,