Sonnet 3 Look in thy glass and tell the face thou viewest
Look in thy glass, and tell the face thou viewestNow is the time that face should form another;Whose fresh repair if now thou not renewest,Thou dost beguile the world, unbless some mother.For where is she so fair whose unear'd wombDisdains the tillage of thy husbandry?Or who is he so fond will be the tombOf his self-love, to stop posterity?Thou art thy mother's glass, and she in theeCalls back the lovely April of her prime:So thou through windows of thine age shall seeDespite of wrinkles this thy golden time.But if thou live, remember'd not to be,Die single, and thine image dies with thee.