Sonnet 125. Were't aught to me I bore the canopy

Were't aught to me I bore the canopy

With my extern the outward honouring

Or laid great bases for eternity

Which proves more short than waste or ruining?

Have I not seen dwellers on form and favour

Lose all, and more by paying too much rent

For compound sweet; forgoing simple savour

Pitiful thrivers in their gazing spent?