Shakespeare Sonnet 6
Then let not winter’s ragged hand deface
In thee thy summer ere thou be distilled.
Make sweet some vial; treasure thou some place
With beauty’s treasure ere it be self-killed. 4
That use is not forbidden usury
Which happies those that pay the willing loan;
That’s for thyself to breed another thee,
Or ten times happier, be it ten for one. 8
Ten times thyself were happier than thou art
If ten of thine ten times refigured thee;
Then what could death do if thou shouldst depart,
Leaving thee living in posterity? 12
Be not self-willed, for thou art much too fair
To be death’s conquest and make worms thine heir.
