XI
As fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou grow’st,In one of thine, from that which thou departest;And that fresh blood which youngly thou bestow’st,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 ceaseAnd 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 thee more;Which bounteous gift thou shouldst in bounty cherish:She carv’d thee for her seal, and meant thereby,Thou shouldst print more, not let that copy die.