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