Sonnet XXVIII: In tyme the strong and statelie torrets

In tyme the strong and statelie torrets fall,
In tyme the Rose, and silver Lillies die,
In tyme the Monarchs captives are and thrall,
In tyme the sea, and rivers are made drie:
The hardest flint, in tyme doth melt asunder,
Still living fame, in tyme doth fade away,
The mountaines proud, we see in tyme come under,
And earth for age, we see in tyme decay:
The sunne in tyme, forgets for to retire,
From out the east, where he was woont to rise,
The basest thoughtes, we see in time aspire,
And greedie minds, in tyme do wealth dispise,
Thus all (sweet faire) in tyme must have an end:
Except thy beautie, vertues, and thy friend.