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 foifon 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.

LIV.

O, how much more doth beauty beauteous feem
By that fweet ornament which truth doth give!
The rofe looks fair, but fairer we it deem
For that sweet odour which doth in it live.
The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye
As the perfumed tincture of the roses,

Hang on fuch thorns, and play as wantonly

When fummer's breath their masked buds discloses: But, for their virtue only is their show,

They live unwoo'd and unrespected fade ;

Die to themselves. Sweet rofes do not fo;

Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odours made: And fo of you, beauteous and lovely youth, When that shall vade, by verse distils your truth.