S O N N E T S.

Selfe,so selfe louing were iniquity,
   T'is thee(my selfe)that for my selfe I praise,
   Painting my age with beauty of thy daies.
A Gainst my loue shall be as I am now
With times iniurious hand chrusht and ore-worne,
When houres haue dreind his blood and fild his brow
With lines and wrincles,when his youthfull morne
Hath trauaild on to Ages steepie night,
And all those beauties whereof now he's King
Are vanishing,or vanisht out of sight,
Stealing away the treasure of his Spring.
For such a time do I now fortifie
Against confounding Ages cruell knife,
That he shall neuer cut from memory
My sweet loues beauty,though my louers life.
   His beautie shall in these blacke lines be seene,
   And they shall liue , and he in them still greene.
VV Hen I haue seene by times fell hand defaced
The rich proud cost of outworne buried age,
When sometime loftie towers I see downe rased,
And brasse eternall slaue to mortall rage.
When I haue seene the hungry Ocean gaine
Aduantage on the Kingdome of the shoare,
And the firme soile win of the watry maine,
Increasing store with losse,and losse with store.
When I haue seene such interchange of state,
Or state it selfe confounded, to decay,
Ruine hath taught me thus to ruminate
That Time will come and take my loue away.
   This thought is as a death which cannot choose
   But weepe to haue,that which it feares to loose.
S Ince brasse,nor stone,nor earth,nor boundlesse sea,
But sad mortallity ore-swaies their power,
E 2 How

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