Sonnet 100

Where art thou Muse that thou forgetst so long,

To speake of that which gives thee all thy might?

Spendst thou thy furie on some worthlesse songe,

Darkning thy powre to lend base subjects light?

Returne forgetful Muse, and straight redeeme

In gentle numbers time so idely spent,

Sing to the eare that doth thy laies esteeme,

And gives thy pen both skill and argument.

Rise resty Muse, my loves sweet face survay,

If time have any wrincle graven there,

If any, be a Satire to decay,

And make times spoiles dispised every where.

Give my love fame faster then time wafts life,

So thou prevenst his sieth, and crooked knife.

Commentary

Address to his beloved

Changes to the original text: end of line 2, comma changed to question mark; end of line 5, comma deleted.

In the first quatrain, the poet questions his Muse as to where she has been since she has said nothing about his (the poet's) beloved for some time. Is she spending her energy (furie) on inferior poetry (worthlesse songe) at the same time darkening her own light (powre) and adding lustre to the inferior poetry (base subject).

In the second quatrain, the poet encourages his muse to return to the subject of his beloved.

In the third quatrain , the poet urges his tired (resty) Muse to bestir herself, and look at his beloved's face to ascertain whether there be any wrinkles, and, if there are, to pen a satire on decay, making decay and any detected changes (times spoiles) despised. It's not easy to see how one could write a satire on decay, but it might be interesting to try.

In the final couplet the poet urges his muse to give his beloved fame faster than time passes (wafts life) so that she holds back his (Time's) scythe (sieth and crooked knife).

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