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O that you were your ſelfe,but loue you are
No longer yours,then you your ſelfe here liue,
Againſt this cumming end you ſhould prepare,
And you rſweet ſemblance to ſome other giue.
So ſhould that beauty which you hold in leaſe
Find no determination, then you were
You ſelfe again after you ſelfes deceaſe,
When you rſweet iſſue your ſweet forme ſhould beare.
Who lets so faire a houſe fall to decay,
Which husbandry in honour might vphold,
Againſt the ſtormy guſts of winters day
And barren rage of deaths eternall cold?
   O none but vnthrifts,deare my loue you know,
   You had a Father,let your Son ſay ſo.

Zie ook het online-facsimile van de oorspronkelijke uitgave (site helaas niet altijd bereikbaar).