Sonnet 16

But wherefore do not you a mightier wayMake war upon this bloody tyrant, Time?And fortify yourself in your decayWith means more blessed than my barren rime? 4Now stand you on the top of happy hours,And many maiden gardens, yet unset,With virtuous wish would bear you living flowersMuch liker than your painted counterfeit: 8So should the lines of life that life repair,Which this Time's pencil, or my pupil pen,Neither in inward worth nor outward fair,Can make you live yourself in eyes of men. 12To give away yourself, keeps yourself still;And you must live, drawn by your own sweet skill.

6 unset: not planted8 painted counterfeit: portrait9 lines of life: children10 Which this . . . pupil pen; cf. n.11 fair: beauty13 To give away yourself: to beget children