re accord with that of the first group of seventeen.

I would not, however, leave this branch of the discussion without
indicating what I deem is the fair inference or result from it. I do
not claim that the age of the poet's friend can be certainly stated
from anything contained in the Sonnets. It seems to me, however, that
it mars the poetry and makes its notes seem inappropriate and
discordant, to suppose that the poet had in mind a person below
twenty-five years of age. To do so would make some, at least, of his
terms of description inapt, subtract from the sparkle and force of his
compliments, and cause his words of loving admonition and advice to
appear ill-timed and inappropriate. Certainly the Sonnets indicate
that his friend was on the morning side of life and below forty; and
perhaps ten or twelve years below would best fit the verse. It may be,
probably it is the fact, that a number of years, from four to seven,
elapsed between the earliest and the latest of these Sonnets; and that
may explain why we are not able to find any more specific indications
as to the age of his friend.

There are also Sonnets from which it has been inferred that the poet's
friend was much younger than thirty, and possibly or probably below
twenty years of age. A careful examination of these Sonnets will,
however, I think very clearly indicate that no such inference can be
fairly drawn.

In Sonnet LIV. the poet says:

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

In Sonnet XCVI. he says:

Some say, thy fault is youth, some wantonness;
Some say, thy grace is youth and gentle sport;

Similar expressions appear in Sonnets II., XV., XXXIII., and XLI.

In Sonnet CXIV. he says:

Such cherubins as your sweet self resemble.

Sonnet CXXVI., containing the appellation, "my lovely boy," has been
already quoted.[14]

In Sonnet CVIII. he says:

What's in the brain, that ink may character,
Which hath not figured to thee my true spirit?
What's new to speak, what new to register,
That may express my love, or thy dear merit?
Nothing, _sweet boy_; but yet, like prayers divine,
I must each day say o'er the very same;
Counting no old thing old, thou mine, I thine,
Even as when first I hallowed thy fair name.
So that eternal love in love's fresh case
_Weighs not the dust and injury of age,
Nor gives to necessary wrinkles place,
But make