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Sonnet 20

         ,         ,          ,     T   T    T      ,
      A wom|an's face | with na|ture's own hand | painted,
             ,          ,       ,         ,        ,    ,
      Hast thou, | the mas|ter mis|tress of | my pass|ion;
         ,        ,        ,      _     ,       ,       
      A wo|man's gen|tle heart,| but | not ac|quainted
             ,         ,                ,    ,         ,    ,
      With shift|ing change,| as is / false wom|en's fash|ion:
          ,           ,              ,        T    T    .  T       o
      An eye | more bright | than theirs, | less false in rol|ling,
       ,             ,        ,     ,        ,       o
      Gilding | the ob|ject where|upon | it gaz|eth;
         ,        ,     ,    ,                  ,       o
      A man | in hue | all hues / in his | control|ling,
               ,       T     T   .   T         ,        ,      o
      Which steals | men's eyes and wom|en's souls | amaz|eth.
           ,       ,       ,           ,        ,      o
      And for | a wom|an wert | thou first | creat|ed;
            ,        ,          ,              ,       ,       o
      Till Na|ture, as | she wrought | thee, fell | a-dot|ing,
           ,      ,       ,        ,        ,      o
      And by | addit|ion me | of thee | defeat|ed,
          ,       ,      ,            ,         ,       o
      By add|ing one | thing to | my pur|pose noth|ing.
            ,            ,            ,         ,         ,        o
      But since | she pricked | thee^out | for wom|en's pleas|ure,
        ,             ,     .   T     T    T            ,        o
      Mine be | thy love | and thy love's use | their treas|ure.
 
 
*This sonnet appears to be in hexameter rather than pentameter.

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