SONNET 70

Sonnet.70- The stress that poses to my distress,dost not thee a vantage,an addjob from an addball, The power of remorse in thee,i cannot pluck,such is my enthused to thee i so much gutter-fastened and earnesty clung,That for the penchant thyself,being not to fop,it is in thy right to indulge.Say thou didst gush thyself for some hauteur,And i will not overule upon that headstrong;headway of my nonintervention,i piously will adhere,Against my defence maketh no offence,thou canst not a horse,impel its cloven hoofs to the river so thirsty,To coerce it a hitch with an etiquette splash'd,upon the water to drink,As i'll myself a hitchhike,i sanction'd;riding on my willpower,I will hither and thither clung farthermost and hobble hitch, Be plunge from thy hitches and in thy poetic justice,

Thy sweet compare beloved above thy kindred,o brethren no more than a purgatory shall deny,Lest i be too much provocative of change that may never come,should then maketh it awry,And pry into haziness of that insensate folks smear,For thee red not to castrate,this rules of the thumb,i'll pussyfoot defend.