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For that sweet odor which doth in it live. The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye As the perfumèd tincture of the roses, Hang on such thorns, and play as wantonly When summer's breath their maskèd buds discloses ;

But, for their virtue only is their show, They live unwooed and unrespected fade, 10 Die to themselves. Sweet roses do not so; Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odors made:

And so of you, beauteous and lovely youth, When that shall fade, my verse distills your truth.