Sonnet 100

　　Where art thou，Muse，that thou forget'st so long

　　To speak of that which gives thee all thy might？

　　Spend'st thou thy fury on some worthless song，

　　Dark'ning thy power to lend base subjects light？

　　Return，forgetful Muse，and straight redeem

　　In gentle numbers time so idly spent；

　　Sing to the ear that doth thy lays esteem，

　　And gives thy pen both skill and argument.

　　Rise，resty Muse，my love's sweet face survey，

　　If time have any wrinkle grave