Sonnet XIII

O, that you were yourself! but, love, you are	1
No longer yours than you yourself here live:	2
Against this coming end you should prepare,	3
And your sweet semblance to some other give.	4
So should that beauty which you hold in lease	5
Find no determination: then you were	6
Yourself again after yourself's decease,	7
When your sweet issue your sweet form should bear.	8
Who lets so fair a house fall to decay,	9
Which husbandry in honour might uphold	10
Against the stormy gusts of winter's day	11
And barren rage of death's eternal cold?	12
O, none but unthrifts! Dear my love, you know	13
You had a father: let your son say so.	14