Then let not winter's ragged hand deface
In thee thy fummer, ere thou be diftill'd:
Make sweet some phial, treasure thou fome place
With beauty's treasure, ere it be self-kill'd.
That use it not forbidden ufury,
Which happies those that pay the willing loan;
That's for thyfelf to breed another thee,
Or ten times happier, be it ten for one;
Ten times thyfelf were happier than thou art,
If ten of thine ten times refigur'd thee:
Then, what could death do if thou should'ft depart,
Leaving thee living in pofterity?
Be not felf-will'd, for thou art much too fair
To be death's conqueft, and make worms thine heir.
Lo in the orient when the gracious light
Lifts up his burning head, each under eye
Doth homage to his new-appearing fight,
Serving with looks his facred majesty;
And having climb'd the steep-up heavenly hill,
Refembling ftrong youth in his middle age,
Yet mortal looks adore his beauty ftill,
Attending on his golden pilgrimage;
But when from high-moft pitch, with weary car,
Like feeble age, he reeleth from the day,'
The eyes,
'fore duteous, now converted are
From his low tract, and look another way:
So thou, thyself out-going in thy noon,
Unlook'd on dieft, unless thou get a fon.
Mufick to hear, why hear'ft thou mufick fadly?
Sweets with fweets war not, joy delights in joy,
Why lov'ft thou that which thou receiv'ft not gladly?
Or elfe receiv'ft with pleasure thine annoy?
If the true concord of well-tuned founds,
By unions married, do offend thine ear,
They do but fweetly chide thee, who confounds
In fingleness the parts that thou should'st bear.
Mark how one string, fweet husband to another,
Strikes each in each by mutual ordering;
Refembling fire, and child and happy mother,
Who all in one, one pleasing note do fing:
Whose speechlefs fong, being many, seeming one,
Sings this to thee," thou fingle wilt prove none.'
Is it for fear to wet a widow's eye,
That thou confum'ft thyself in fingle life?
Ah! if thou iffueless shalt hap to die,
The world will wail thee, like a makeless wife;
The world will be thy widow and still weep,
That thou no form of thee haft left behind,
When every private widow well may keep,
By children's eyes, her husband's shape in mind.
Look, what an unthrift in the world doth spend,
Shifts but his place, for still the world enjoys it ;
But beauty's waste hath in the world an end,
And kept unus'd, the user so destroys it.
No love toward others in that bofom fits,
That on him felf fuch murderous fhame commits,
For fhame! deny that thou bear'ft love to any,
Who for thyfelf art fo unprovident.
Grant if thou wilt, thou art belov'd of many,
But that thou none lov'ft, is most evident;
For thou art fo poffefs'd with murderous hate,
That 'gainst thyfelf thou stick'st not to confpire,
Seeking that beauteous roof to ruinate,
Which to repair should be thy chief defire.
O change thy thought, that I may change my mind!
Shall hate be fairer lodg'd than gentle love?
Be, as thy prefence is, gracious and kind,
Or to thyself, at leaft, kind-hearted prove :
Make thee another felf, for love of me,
That beauty still may live in thine or thee.
As faft as thou shalt wane, so fast thou grow'st
In one of thine, from that which thou departeft;
And that fresh blood which youngly thou bestow'st,
Thou may'ft call thine, when thou from youth convertest.
Herein lives wisdom, beauty, and increase;
Without this, folly, age, and cold decay:
If all were minded fo, the times should cease,
And threefcore years would make the world away.
Let those whom nature hath not made for store,
Harsh, featureless, and rude, barrenly perish :
Look whom the best endow'd, fhe gave thee more;
Which bounteous gift thou should'st in bounty cherish:
She carv'd thee for her feal, and meant thereby,
Thou should'st print more, nor let that copy die.
When I do count the clock that tells the time,
And fee the brave day funk in hideous night;
When I behold the violet paft prime,
And fable curls, all filver'd o'er with white;
When lofty trees I fee barren of leaves,
Which erft from heat did canopy the herd,
And fummer's green all girded up in sheaves,
Borne on the bier with white and briftly beard;
Then of thy beauty do I queftion make,
That thou among the waftes of time must go,
Since fweets and beauties do themselves forfake,
And die as faft as they fee others grow;
And nothing 'gainst time's scythe can make defence,
Save breed, to brave him, when he takes thee hence.
O that you were yourself! but, love, you are
No longer your's, than you yourself here live:
Against this coming end you fhould prepare,
And fweet femblance to fome other give.
your
So fhould that beauty which you hold in leafe,
Find no determination: then you were
Yourself again, after yourself's decease,
When your fweet iffue your fweet form should bear.
Who lets fo fair a houfe fall to decay,
Which husbandry in honour might uphold
Against the stormy gufts of winter's day,
And barren rage of death's eternal cold?
O! none but unthrifts :-Dear my love, you know,
You had a father; let your fon fay fo.
Not from the stars do I my judgment pluck;
And yet methinks I have aftronomy,
But not to tell of good, or evil luck,
Of plagues, of dearths, or seasons' quality :
Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell,
Pointing to each his thunder, rain and wind,
Or fay, with princes if it fhall go well,
By oft predict that I in heaven find:
But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive,
And (conftant ftars) in them I read fuch art,
As truth and beauty fhall together thrive,
If from thyself to store thou would'st convert :
Or elfe of thee this I prognofticate,
Thy end is truth's and beauty's doom and date.
When I confider every thing that grows
Holds in perfection but a little moment,
That this huge state prefenteth nought but shows
Whereon the ftars in fecret influence comment;
When I perceive that men as plants increase,
Cheared and check'd even by the self-same sky;
Vaunt in their youthful fap, at height decrease,
And wear their brave state out of memory;
Then the conceit of this inconstant stay
Sets you moft rich in youth before my fight,
Where wafteful time debateth with decay,
To change your day of youth to fullied night;
And, all in war with time, for love of you,
As he takes from you, I engraft you new.
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