My glass shall not persuade me I am old,1
So long as youth and thou art of one date ;2
But when in thee Time’s furrows I behold,3
Then look I death my days should expiate.4
For all that beauty that doth cover thee,5
Is but the seemly raiment of my heart,6
Which in thy breast doth live, as thine in me ;7
How can I then be elder than thou art ?8
O therefore, love, be of thyself so wary,9
As I not for myself but for thee will ;10
Bearing thy heart, which I will keep so chary,11
As tender nurse her babe from falling ill.12
Presume not on thy heart, when mine is slain ;13
Thou gay’st me thine, not to give back again.14