O, that you were your self! But, love, you are br No longer yours than you yourself here live. br Against this coming end you should prepare, br And your sweet semblance to some other give. br So should that beauty which you hold in lease br Find no determination; then you were br Yourself again after yourself's decease, br When your sweet issue your sweet form should bear. br Who lets so fair a house fall to decay, br Which husbandry in honour might uphold br Against the stormy gusts of winter's day br And barren rage of death's eternal cold? br O, none but unthrifts! Dear my love, you know, br You had a father; let your son say so.