New sonnets from Shakespeare.
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Let me not to the marriage of true minds
When that churl Death my bones with dust shall cover
A woman's gentle heart, but not acquainted
And do not drop in for an after-loss:
So should that beauty which you hold in lease
Which many legions of true hearts had warm'd;
As Philomel in summer's front doth sing,
And taught it thus anew to greet;
And do so, love; yet when they have devis'd,
That you yourself may privilage your time
For thou not farther than my thoughts canst move,
When others would give life, and bring a tomb.
   Let them say more that like of hearsay well;
   Than both your poets can in praise devise.

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