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	Dark’ning 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 despisèd everywhere.
13	Give my love fame faster than time wastes life;
14	So, thou prevene’st his scythe and crookèd knife.