MY glass shall not
persuade me I am old |
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So long as youth and thou are of one date; |
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But when in thee times furrows I behold, |
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Then look I death my days should expiate. |
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For all that beauty that doth cover thee |
5 |
Is but the seemly raiment of my heart, |
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Which in thy breast doth live, as thine in
me: |
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How can I then, be elder than thou art? |
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O! therefore, love, be of thyself so wary |
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As I, not for myself, but for thee will; |
10 |
Bearing thy heart, which I will keep so chary |
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As tender nurse her babe from faring ill. |
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Presume not on thy heart when
mine is slain; |
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Thou gavst me thine, not
to give back again. |
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