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XI



As fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou grow'st,

In one of thine, from that which thou departest;

And that fresh blood which youngly thou bestow'st,

Thou mayst call thine when thou from youth convertest,

Herein lives wisdom, beauty, and increase;

Without this folly, age, and cold decay:

If all were minded so, the times should cease

And threescore year would make the world away.

Let those whom nature hath not made for store,

Harsh, featureless, and rude, barrenly perish:

Look, whom she best endow'd, she gave thee more;

Which bounteous gift thou shouldst in bounty cherish:

  She carv'd thee for her seal, and meant thereby,

  Thou shouldst print more, not let that copy die.

 	--William Shakespeare

LIII



What is your substance, whereof are you made,

That millions of strange shadows on you tend?

Since every one, hath every one, one shade,

And you but one, can every shadow lend.

Describe Adonis, and the counterfeit

Is poorly imitated after you;

On Helen's cheek all art of beauty set,

And you in Grecian tires are painted new: 

Speak of the spring, and foison of the year,

The one doth shadow of your beauty show,

The other as your bounty doth appear;

And you in every blessed shape we know.

  In all external grace you have some part,

  But you like none, none you, for constant heart.

 	--William Shakespeare