19 February 2006 | Vol. 5, No. 4

Sonnet 6: Then let not winter's ragged hand deface

by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

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 thyself to breed another thee,

Or ten times happier, be it ten for one;

Ten times thyself 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.