Sonnet 100

1 Where art thou Muse that thou forget’st so long,
2 To speak of that which gives thee all thy might?
3 Spend’st thou thy fury on some worthless song,
4 Darkening thy power to lend base subjects light?
5 Return forgetful Muse, and straight redeem,
6 In gentle numbers time so idly spent,
7 Sing to the ear that doth thy lays esteem,
8 And gives thy pen both skill and argument.
9 Rise resty Muse, my love’s sweet face survey,
10 If time have any wrinkle graven there,
11 If any, be a satire to decay,
12 And make time’s spoils despised everywhere.
13 Give my love fame faster than Time wastes life,
14 So thou prevent’st his scythe, and crooked knife.