- So am I as the rich, whose blessed key,
- Can bring him to his sweet up-locked treasure,
- The which he will not every hour survey,
- For blunting the fine point of seldom pleasure.
- Therefore are feasts so solemn and so rare,
- Since, seldom coming in that long year set,
- Like stones of worth they thinly placed are,
- Or captain jewels in the carcanet.
- So is the time that keeps you as my chest,
- Or as the wardrobe which the robe doth hide,
- To make some special instant special-blest,
- By new unfolding his imprison’d pride.
- Blessed are you whose worthiness gives scope,
- Being had, to triumph; being lacked, to hope.