University of Virginia Library

Search this document 

collapse section
 
collapse section
 
 
 
 
 
The Question and Anwser.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
collapse section
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


8

The Question and Anwser.

When the sad reins of that face
In it's own wrinkles buried lyes,
And the stiff pride of all it's grace
By time undone, falls slack and dyes:
Wilt not thou sigh, and wish in some vext fit,
That it were now as when I counted it.
And when thy glass shall it present,
Without those smiles which once were there,
Shewing like some stale monument,
A scarce departed from it's haire,
At thy selfe frighted wilt not stare and sweare
That I believed the, when I call'd thee faire?
Yes, yes, I know thou wilt, and so
Pity the weakness of thy scorne
That now hath humbled thee to know,
Though faire it was, it is forlorne,
Loves sweets, thy aged corps, embalming not
What marvel if thy carkase beauty rot
Then shall I live and live to be
Thy envy, thou my pity; say

9

When e're thou see me, or I thee,
(Being nighted from thy beauties day)
Tis he, and had my pride not wither'd me
I had, perhaps, been still as fresh as he.
Then shall I smile and answer: true thy scorne
Left thee thus wrinkled, slack't, corrupt, forlorne.