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Sonnet 95

            ,           ,       ,           ,          ,
      How sweet | and love|ly dost | thou make | the shame
              ,        ,      ,        ,          ,
      Which like | a cank|er in | the fra|grant rose,
             ,          ,      ,        ,         ,
      Doth^spot | the beau|ty of | thy bud|ding name?
          ,           ,            ,          ,        ,
      Oh in | what sweets | dost^thou | thy sins | enclose.
              ,            ,          ,      ,         ,
      That tongue | that tells | the sto|ry of | thy days,
        ,           ,    2   ,         ,         ,
      (Making | lasciv|ious com|ments on | thy sport)
          ,          ,          ,       ,          ,
      Cannot | dispraise,| but in | a kind | of praise,
       ,             ,      ,           ,        ,
      Naming | thy name,| blesses | an ill | report.
           ,       ,         ,           ,      ,
      Oh what | a man|sion have | those vi|ces got,
             ,           ,    ,        ,           ,
      Which for | their ha|bita|tion chose | out^thee,
              ,         ,          ,      ,       ,
      Where beau|ty's veil | doth^co|ver ev|ery blot
           ,       T     T    .   T           ,         ,
      And all | things turns to fair | that eyes | can see.
             ,            ,                 ,    ,      ,
      Take^heed |(dear* heart)| of this / large pri|vilege;
           ,         ,           ,           ,          ,
      The har|dest knife | ill^used | doth^lose | his edge.

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