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Sonnet 79
1Whil'st I alone did call upon thy aid,
2My verse alone had all thy gentle grace,
5I grant (sweet love) thy lovely argument
6Deserves the travail of a worthier pen,
7Yet what of thee thy poet doth invent,
8He robs thee of and pays it thee again.
9He lends thee virtue, and he stole that word
10From thy behaviour; beauty doth he give
11And found it in thy cheek; he can afford
12No praise to thee but what in thee doth live.
13    Then thank him not for that which he doth say,
14    Since what he owes thee, thou thy self dost pay.


3] numbers] verses (Shakespeare counted syllables). Back to Line
4] give an other place] give place to another [muse]. Back to Line