I grant thou wert not married to my Muse...
Sonnet 82I grant thou wert not married to my Muse
And therefore mayst without attaint o'erlook The dedicated words which writers use Of their fair subject, blessing every book Thou art as fair in knowledge as in hue, Finding thy worth a limit past my praise, And therefore art enforced to seek anew Some fresher stamp of the time-bettering days And do so, love; yet when they have devised What strained touches rhetoric can lend, Thou truly fair wert truly sympathized In true plain words by thy true-telling friend; And their gross painting might be better used Where cheeks need blood; in thee it is abused. Buy and Download...Click HERE
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You’re not obliged or tied down to being my inspiration only, so it’s fair enough that (seeing as you found I couldn’t complement you well enough) you found a more modern, more fashionable writer to sing your praises. Go for it – but once you’ve heard all the fancy stuff they can lay at your feet, think about how your real beauty was honestly described, in unfashionable words by your oafish admirer. The sophisticated praises of those clever people would be of more use talking about subjects that need beautifying. When applied to you, they're just pointless.