Sonnet. 44 (Sonnet 44)

VVHilst thus my pen striues to eternize thee,
Age rules my lines with wrinckles in my face,
Where in the map of all my miserie,
Is modeld out the worlde of my disgrace,
Whilst in despight of tyrannizing times,
Medea-like I make thee yong againe,
Prowdly thou scorust my world-outwearing rimes,
And murther'st Vertue with thy coy disdaine;
And though in youth my youth vntimely perish,
To keepe thee from obliuion and the graue,
Ensuing ages yet my rimes shall cherish,
When I entomb'd my better part shall saue;
And though this earthly bodie fade and die,
My name shall mount vpon eternitie.