From fairest creatures we desire increase,That thereby beauties Rose might neuer die,But as the riper should by time decease,His tender heire might beare his memory:But thou contracted to thine owne bright eyes,Feed'st thy lights flame with selfe substantiall fewell,Making a famine where aboundance lies,Thy selfe thy foe, to thy sweet selfe too cruell:Thou that art now the worlds fresh ornament,And only herauld to the gaudy spring,Within thine owne bud buriest thy content,And tender chorle makst wast in niggarding:Pitty the world, or else this glutton be,To eate the worlds due, by the graue and thee.
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