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XI.
As
fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou growest
In one
of thine, from that which thou departest;
And that
fresh blood which youngly thou bestowest
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 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 shouldst in bounty cherish:
She
carved thee for her seal, and meant thereby
Thou
shouldst print more, not let that copy die.
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