SHAKESPEARES,

SONNETS.

Rom faireft creatures we defire increase, That thereby beauties Rofe might neuer die, But as the riper fhould by time decease, His tender heire might beare his memory: But thou contracted to thine owne bright eyes, Feed'ft thy lights flame with felfe fubftantiall fewell, Making a famine where aboundance lies, Thy felfe thy foe,to thy fweet felfe too cruell: Thou that art now the worlds fresh ornament, And only herauld to the gaudy fpring, Within thine owne bud burieft thy content, And tender chorle makft waft in niggarding: Pitty the world, or elfe this glutton be, To cate the worlds due,by the graue and thee.

VVHen fortie Winters fhall befeige thy brew,

And digge deep trenches in thy beauties field, Thy youthes proud liuery fo gaz'd on now, Wil be a totter'd weed of fmal worth held: Then being askt,where all thy beautie lies, Where all the treasure of thy lufty daies; To fay within thine owne deepe funken eyes, Were an all-eating fhame,and thriftleffe praife. How much more praife deferu'd thy beauties vfe, If thou couldft anfwere this faire child of mine Shall fum my count,and make my old excufe Prooving his beautie by fucceffion thine.