University of Virginia Library


477

7.

[Do not, O do not prize thy beauty at too high a rate]

Do not, O do not prize thy beauty at too high a rate:
Love to be lov'd whilst thou art lovely, least thou love too late;
Frownes print wrincles in thy browes,
At which spightfull age doth smile,
Women in their froward vowes
Glorying to beguile.
Wert thou the onely worlds admired, thou canst love but one;
But many have before beene lov'd, thou art not lov'd alone:
Couldst thou speake with heavenly grace,
Sapho might with thee compare;
Blush the Roses in thy face,
Rozamond was as fair.
Pride is the canker that consumeth beautie in her prime,
They that delight in long debating feele the curse of time.
All things with the time do change
That will not the time obey;
Some even to themselves seeme strange
Thorowe their owne delay.