Shakespeare's Sonnets: Then let not winter's wragged hand deface

Then let not winter's wragged hand defaceIn 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 usuryWhich happies those that pay the willing loan;That's for thy self to breed an other thee,Or ten times happ'er, be it ten for one:Ten times thy self were happ'er than thou art.If ten of thine ten times refigur'd thee,Then what could death do if thou should'st 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.