Quotation by Shakespeare

When forty winters shall besiege thy brow
And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field,
Thy youth's proud livery, so gaz'd on now,
Will be a tatter'd weed of small worth held.
Then being ask'd where all thy beauty lies,
Where all the treasure of thy lusty days,
To say, within thine own deep-sunken eyes
Were an all-eating shame and thriftless praise.
How much more praise deserv'd thy beauty's use
If thou couldst answer, \'This fair child of mine
Shall sum my count and make my old excuse,'
Proving his beauty by succession thine!
This were to be new made when thou art old
And see thy blood warm when thou feel'st it cold.
William Shakespeare (1564–1616), British poet. When forty winters shall beseige thy brow (l. 1–14). . .

The Unabridged William Shakespeare, William George Clark and William Aldis Wright, eds. (1989) Running Press.
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