Shake-speares Sonnets, Never before Imprinted/Sonnet 126
For other versions of this work, see Sonnet 126 (Shakespeare).
126O thou my louely Boy who in thy power,Doest hould times fickle glasse, his sickle, hower:Who hast by wayning growne, and therein shou'st,Thy louers withering, as thy sweet selfe grow'st.If Nature (soueraine misteres ouer wrack)As thou goest onwards still will plucke thee backe,She keepes thee to this purpose, that her skill.May time disgrace, and wretched mynuit kill.Yet feare her O thou minnion of her pleasure,She may detaine, but not still keepe her tresurelHer Audite (though delayd) answer'd must be,And her Quietus is to render thee.()()