Sonnet 126

O thou, my lovely boy, who in thy powerDost hold Time's fickle glass, his sickle hour;Who hast by waning grown, and therein show'stThy lovers withering as thy sweet self grow'st; 4If Nature, sovereign mistress over wrack,As thou goest onwards, still will pluck thee back,She keeps thee to this purpose, that her skillMay time disgrace and wretched minutes kill. 8Yet fear her, O thou minion of her pleasure!She may detain, but not still keep, her treasure:Her audit, though delay'd, answer'd must be,And her quietus is to render thee. 12

1–12 Cf. n.2 sickle hour: hour when his sickle strikes3 by waning grown: with age grown more beautiful5 wrack: destruction8 wretched minutes kill: kill time's minutes (that bring old age)9 minion: darling12 quietus: acquittance of the account