Nicotine and black ink stain my fingers confirming all I have done, do and will in steadfast proof of spent Time that lingers ever and anon upon new hours still, and still this world hath nothing to compare nor ever hath with someone such as thee as Time doth prove the burden that I bear thru' stainΓ¨d fingers of mine poetry, for Time itself will vouchsafe mine labour with honest judgement of fair-reckon'd Time, while tongues that prate and cut like a sabre shall be mute with thy beauty in mine rhyme β vouchsafe me this, the sweetest sort of task to prove thy worth is all that I do ask.