1. My glass shall not persuade me I am old,
    So long as youth and thou are of one date,
    For when in thee  times furrows I behold,
    Then look I death my days should expiate,
    For all that beauty that doth cover thee ,
    Is but the seemly raiment of my heart,
    Which in thy breast doth live as thine in me,
    How can I then be elder than thou art?
    0, therefore love, be of yourself so wary,
    As I not for myself but for thee will,
    Bearing thy heart , which I will keep so chary
    As tender nurse her babe from fairing ill,
    Presume not on thy heart when mine is slain,
    Thou gavest me thine not to give back again.


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