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Sonnet LXXXII
 
I grant thou wert not married to my Muse
1
And therefore mayst without attaint o'erlook
2
The dedicated words which writers use
3
Of their fair subject, blessing every book
4
Thou art as fair in knowledge as in hue,
5
Finding thy worth a limit past my praise,
6
And therefore art enforced to seek anew
7
Some fresher stamp of the time-bettering days
8
And do so, love; yet when they have devised
9
What strained touches rhetoric can lend,
10
Thou truly fair wert truly sympathized
11
In true plain words by thy true-telling friend;
12
   
And their gross painting might be better used
13
   
Where cheeks need blood; in thee it is abused.
14