1593-1603 by Shakespeare 
Sonnet 146 

1	Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth,
2	[] these rebel powers that thee array#
3	Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth,
4	Painting thy outward walls so costly gay?
5	Why so large cost, having so short a lease,
6	Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend?
7	Shall worms, inheritors of this excess,
8	Eat up thy charge? Is this thy body’s end?
9	Then, soul, live thou upon thy servant’s loss,
10	And let that pine to aggravate thy store.
11	Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross#
12	Within be fed, without be rich no more.
13	So shalt thou feed on death, that feeds on men,
14	And death once dead, there’s no more dying then.