Sonnet 4
Unthrifty loveliness, why dost thou spendUpon 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 abuseThe bounteous largess given thee to give?Profitless usurer, why dost thou useSo great a sum of sums, yet canst not live?For having traffic with thyself alone,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 tomb'd with thee, Which, used, lives th' executor to be.
When I warn you of "all of your fairfeatures failing," you claim not to care.You're a master debaterbut sooner or lateryou'll see my side and try for an heir.