THEN let not winterís ragged hand deface
In thee thy summer, ere thou be distillíd:
Make sweet some vial; treasure thou some place
With beautyís treasure, ere it be self-killíd.
That use is not forbidden usury,
Which happies those that pay the willing loan;
Thatís for thyself to breed another thee,
Or ten times happier, be it ten for one;
Ten times thyself were happier than thou art,
If ten of thine ten times refiguríd thee;
Then what could death do, if thou shouldst depart,
Leaving thee living in posterity?
Be not self-willíd, for thou art much too fair
To be deathís conquest and make worms thine heir.