But why don't you use a more effective way of fighting this terrible tyrant, Time? And defend yourself with more effective methods than my useless poems? You are right at the peak of your life, and many maiden gardens, still unplanted, would love to bear you fresh young flowers much more like you than your portrait is. So your children, whose existence ensures your continuance, can give you perpetual life, something which neither Time's paintbrush nor my poor pen can do. By giving yourself away you will preserve yourself, and so you will live, yourself being the artist who paints you.
