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| Then let not winter's ragged hand deface, | 1 |
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| In thee thy summer, ere thou be distill'd: |
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| Make sweet some vial; treasure thou some place |
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| With beauty's treasure ere it be self-kill'd. |
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| That use is not forbidden usury, | 5 |
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| Which happies those that pay the willing loan; |
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| That's for thy self to breed another thee, |
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| Or ten times happier, be it ten for one; |
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| Ten times thy self were happier than thou art, |
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| If ten of thine ten times refigur'd thee: | 10 |
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| Then what could death do if thou shouldst depart, |
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| Leaving thee living in posterity? |
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 Be not self-will'd, for thou art much too fair |
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| To be death's conquest and make worms thine heir. |
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