Then let not winter’s ragged hand deface,
In 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 usury,
Which happies those that pay the willing loan;
That’s for thyself to breed another thee,
Or ten times happier, be it ten for one;
Ten times thyself were happier than thou art,
If ten of thine ten times refigur’d thee:
Then what could death do if thou shouldst 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.
In plain English
Don't let time wreck your youth before you've made something of it. You should preserve your beauty by passing it on—create a child who carries your face and gifts into the future. It's not wrong to do this; in fact, it's the best kind of investment, because everyone wins when beauty is shared this way.
Imagine having ten children who look like you, each one a copy of your best self. You'd be happier then than you are now, because you'd live on through them. Even death couldn't touch you—you'd survive in your descendants.
Don't be stubborn about staying alone. You're too beautiful to let time and death erase you completely. Don't make worms your only heirs. Have a child instead.
