Pot
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Full character'd with lasting memory,
Beyond all date; even to eternity.html">eternity:
Have faculty by nature to subsist;
Of thee, thy record never can be miss'd.
nor.html">nor.html">Nor need I tallies thy dear love to score;
To trust those tables that receive thee more:
Were to import forgetfulness in me.
CXXIII
No, Time, thou.html">thou.html">thou shalt not boast that I do change:
To me are nothing.html">nothing novel, nothing strange;
Our dates are brief, and therefore we admire
And rather make them born to our desire
Thy registers and thee I both defy,
For thy records and what we see doth lie,
This I do vow and this shall ever be;
It might for Fortune's bastard be unfather'd,
Weeds among weeds, or flowers.html">flowers with flowers gather'd.
It suffers not in smiling pomp, nor falls
Whereto th' inviting time our fashion calls:
Which works on leases of short-number'd hours,
That it nor grows with heat, nor drowns with showers.
Which die for goodness, who have lived for crime.
CXXV
Were't aught to me I bore the canopy,
Or laid great bases for eternity,
Have I not seen dwellers on form and favour
For compound sweet; forgoing simple savour,
No; let me be obsequious in thy heart,
Which is not mix'd with seconds, knows no art,
Hence, thou suborned informer! a true soul
Dost hold Time's fickle glass, his fickle hour;
Thy lovers withering, as thy sweet self grow'st.
As thou goest onwards, still will pluck thee back,
May time disgrace and wretched minutes kill.
She may detain, but not still keep, her treasure:
And her quietus is to render thee.
CXXVII
In the old age black was not counted fair,
.
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