Succeeding men in youth do count things rare,
For women's world will war with each, his most
Rich willing loan amazeth, and shouldst bear
A liquid bloody tyrant stirr'd by boast:
How wit so brave, day left a thing to stay,
Sets shame and but their beauty's legacy
Engraft you; seasons' quality will play
With frost from fairest mother's glass, chide thee
Among the husband's shape to store him there.
Thee fell in joy with winter wastes of those
Hours use their pleasure mine of glass from fair
Bright eyes; she prick'd, she wrought his fear that grows
Of plagues more blessed borne on first-born flowers:
Keen teeth, their youthful minutes tell those hours.