6
de William Shakespeare(2006)
1 min lectură
Mediu
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 refigured 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.