Sonnet 38: How can my muse want subject to invent

1How can my muse want subject to invent,

2While thou dost breathe, that pour'st into my verse

3Thine own sweet argument, too excellent

4For every vulgar paper to rehearse?

5O! give thy self the thanks, if aught in me

6Worthy perusal stand against thy sight;

7For who's so dumb that cannot write to thee,

8When thou thy self dost give invention light?

9Be thou the tenth Muse, ten times more in worth

10Than those old nine which rhymers invocate;

11And he that calls on thee, let him bring forth

12Eternal numbers to outlive long date.

13 If my slight muse do please these curious days,

14 The pain be mine, but thine shall be the praise.