Sonnet 18ish

Shall I compare thee to an angry slut?
Thou art more busty and less temporate:
Rough hands do shake the darling breasts and butt
And summer's leash hath all too short a date.
Sometimes too hot your rage like heaven shines,
And often is your immense beauty dimmed
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature's changing course untrimmed
But thy eternal sex'ness shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of those assets thou ow'st,
Nor shall age brag he claim'st thou in his shade
Despite the time in time thou come to grow'st
So long as men can breathe, their cocks to rise
So you shall live, and never lose this guise.