As fast as thou shall 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 may'st 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 should'st in bounty cherish:
She carved thee for her seal, and meant thereby
Thou should'st print more, nor let that copy die.