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Unthrifty loveliness, why dost thou spend

Upon thyself thy beauty's legacy ?

Nature's bequest gives nothing, but doth lend,

And, being frank, she lends to those are free.

Then, beauteous niggard, why dost thou abuse

The bounteous largess given thee to give ?

Profitless usurer, why dost thou use

So great a sum of sums, yet canst not live ?

For having traffic with thyself alone,

Thou of thyself thy sweet self dost deceive.

Then how when nature calls thee to be gone,

What acceptable audit canst thou leave ?

      Thy unus'd beauty must be tomb'd with thee,

      Which, used, lives th' executor to be.

William Shakespeare, Tragedies/Poems, IV