Wittes Pilgrimage, Sonnet 28

LEt not (deere Sweete) the wheeling of the Spheares
(That spight thy Christaline translucencie)
Winde vp thy lifes-Threed on the Spowle of Yeares
Ere thou dost as thy Mother did for Thee:
Least that thy Glasse thy beauie doo accuse
Before the soueraign'st Sence, for being deflowr'd
By Time; which Thee, as thou did'st, Him, abuse:
Which by thy Beautie will be ill endur'd.
Why mak'st an Idoll of Diuinitie
(Thy Beauiie!) and with It the Pagan play,
By off'ring vp thy selfe, to It, and dy
In Flames, but of Selfe-loue, condempn'd eache waie?
Then, better thou hadst nere bin borne, sith birth
Thy diuiue Beauty so condempnes to Earth.