Sonnet 35

Sonnet 35.All fret was thine and dungy mine hadst in satiety,I can now exonerate thee for the dope that thou unkindled;But yet be not spared,if thou thyself crookedness reproach'd,By the wilful dead being dead as a doornail of thyself dop'st,I do not impenitent thy mopish botches,genteel insanity,rambuctious meekness, Although thou a dogooder till doomsday will never sunny times behold,To bear sacrifice's orifice,libation'wrath than antipathy's infection,Downtrodden downwinds,drapping in whom drappings drape downward a downbeat,Smite them with ridicule;yet still they be not exonerat'd,Those instantaneous adophobiac wraith,or its burlesque at a snail pace,that serfdom servile,When i am in gaol from thy dungeon,Thy hoopla andvintage,flexing through the hoops gorgeously befits,For still dope praises where thou art no art,Placid thou art and placid therefore moisturises thy modus operandi and enbliss modus viviendi,In the bounteaus art,it be not ridicul'd, And when hardihood woos and boons as boon companion,what