Unthrifty loveliness, why dost thou spen

Upon thyself thy beauty’s legacy?

Nature’s bequest gives nothing but doth lend,

And being frank, she lends to those are free.

Then, beauteous niggard, why dost thou abus

The bounteous largess given thee to give

Profitless usurer, why dost thou us

So great a sum of sums yet canst not live?

For, having traffic with thyself alon

Thou of thyself thy sweet self dost deceive

Then how, when nature calls thee to be gone

What acceptable audit canst thou leave?

Thy unused beauty must be tombed with thee

Which used lives th’ executor to be. 4jkWsJf+JMJQRJ91Yro6iGRaENKSucGqJsak1OBeNkjOj8NkLFk0Wp3G7BXaTDIu