Sonnet #21

So is it nt wiv me as wiv th@ muse,
Stirred by a painted beauty 2 his verse,
Who heaven it self 4 ornament doth use,
& every fair wiv his fair doth rehearse,
Making a couplement of proud compare
wiv sun & moon, wiv earth & seaz rich gems:
wiv Aprilz first-born flowers & all things rare,
th@ heavenz air in this huge rondure hems.
O let me true in luv bt truly write,
& then believe me, my luv is as fair,
As ne motherz child, though nt so bright
As those gold c&les fixed in heavenz air:
Let them say more th@ like of hearsay well,
I will nt praise th@ purpose nt 2 sell.
See Original Sonnet

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

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