Sonnet 146: Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth

1Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth,

2My sinful earth these rebel powers array,

3Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth,

4Painting thy outward walls so costly gay?

5Why so large cost, having so short a lease,

6Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend?

7Shall worms, inheritors of this excess,

8Eat up thy charge? Is this thy body's end?

9Then soul, live thou upon thy servant's loss,

10And let that pine to aggravate thy store;

11Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross;

12Within be fed, without be rich no more:

13 So shall thou feed on Death, that feeds on men,

14 And Death once dead, there's no more dying then.