| BEAUTY is but a vain and doubtful good; | |
| A shining gloss that vadeth suddenly; | |
| A flower that dies when first it ’gins to bud; | |
| A brittle glass that ’s broken presently: | |
| A doubtful good, a gloss, a glass, a flower, | 5 |
| Lost, vaded, broken, dead within an hour. | |
| And as goods lost are seld or never found, | |
| As vaded gloss no rubbing will refresh, | |
| As flowers dead lie wither’d on the ground, | |
| As broken glass no cement can redress, | 10 |
| So beauty blemish’d once ’s for ever lost, | |
| In spite of physic, painting, pain, and cost. |