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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.