New sonnets from Shakespeare.
One every five minutes.

Lo, as a careful housewife runs to catch
Some in their wealth, some in their body's force,
Doth spot the beauty of thy budding name!
Which should example where your equal grew.
Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour,
The teeming autumn, big with rich increase,
My life, being made of four, with two alone
Or ten times happier, be it ten for one;
Never believe though in my nature reign'd,
As his triumphant prize. Proud of this pride,
But in the onset come: so shall I taste
Makes black night beauteous, and her old face new.
   But flowers distill'd, though they with winter meet,
   The soil is this, that thou dost common grow.

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