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LXVII



Ah! wherefore with infection should he live,

And with his presence grace impiety,

That sin by him advantage should achieve,

And lace itself with his society? 

Why should false painting imitate his cheek,

And steel dead seeming of his living hue?

Why should poor beauty indirectly seek

Roses of shadow, since his rose is true?

Why should he live, now Nature bankrupt is,

Beggar'd of blood to blush through lively veins?

For she hath no exchequer now but his,

And proud of many, lives upon his gains.

  O! him she stores, to show what wealth she had

  In days long since, before these last so bad.

 	--William Shakespeare

LXVII



Ah! wherefore with infection should he live,

And with his presence grace impiety,

That sin by him advantage should achieve,

And lace itself with his society? 

Why should false painting imitate his cheek,

And steel dead seeming of his living hue?

Why should poor beauty indirectly seek

Roses of shadow, since his rose is true?

Why should he live, now Nature bankrupt is,

Beggar'd of blood to blush through lively veins?

For she hath no exchequer now but his,

And proud of many, lives upon his gains.

  O! him she stores, to show what wealth she had

  In days long since, before these last so bad.

 	--William Shakespeare

XCIX



The forward violet thus did I chide:

Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells,

If not from my love's breath? The purple pride

Which on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells

In my love's veins thou hast too grossly dy'd.

The lily I condemned for thy hand,

And buds of marjoram had stol'n thy hair;

The roses fearfully on thorns did stand,

One blushing shame, another white despair;

A third, nor red nor white, had stol'n of both,

And to his robbery had annex'd thy breath;

But, for his theft, in pride of all his growth 

A vengeful canker eat him up to death.

  More flowers I noted, yet I none could see,

  But sweet, or colour it had stol'n from thee.

 	--William Shakespeare