Sonnet 101

O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends

For thy neglect of truth in beauty dyed?

Both truth and beauty on my love depends

So dost thou too, and therein dignified.

Make answer Muse: wilt thou not haply say,

Truth needs no colour, with his colour fixed,

But best is best, if never intermixed? 

Because he needs no praise, wilt thou be dumb?

Excuse not silence so, for't lies in thee

To make him much outlive a gilded tomb

And to be praised of ages yet to be.

Then do thy office, Muse. I teach thee how

To make him seem long hence, as he shows now.