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| SONNET 11 |
| As fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou growest |
| In one of thine, from that which thou departest; |
| And that fresh blood which youngly thou bestowest |
| Thou mayst call thine when thou from youth convertest. |
| Herein lives wisdom, beauty and increase: |
| Without this, folly, age and cold decay: |
| If all were minded so, the times should cease |
| And threescore year would make the world away. |
| Let those whom Nature hath not made for store, |
| Harsh featureless and rude, barrenly perish: |
| Look, whom she best endow'd she gave the more; |
| Which bounteous gift thou shouldst in bounty cherish: |
| She carved thee for her seal, and meant thereby |
| Thou shouldst print more, not let that copy die. |
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