| | Sonnet 96 |
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Some say thy fault is youth, some wantonness, |
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Some say thy grace is youth and gentle sport; |
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Both grace and faults are loved of more and less; |
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Thou mak'st faults graces that to thee resort. |
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As on the finger of a thronèd queen |
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The basest jewel will be well esteemed, |
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So are those errors that in thee are seen |
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To truths translated, and for true things deemed. |
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How many lambs might the stern wolf betray, |
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If like a lamb he could his looks translate; |
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How many gazers mightst thou lead away, |
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If thou wouldst use the strength of all thy state! |
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But do not so. I love thee in such sort, |
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As thou being mine, mine is thy good report. |