Sonnet CI

O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends	1
For thy neglect of truth in beauty dyed?	2
Both truth and beauty on my love depends;	3
So dost thou too, and therein dignified.	4
Make answer, Muse: wilt thou not haply say	5
'Truth needs no colour, with his colour fix'd;	6
Beauty no pencil, beauty's truth to lay;	7
But best is best, if never intermix'd?'	8
Because he needs no praise, wilt thou be dumb?	9
Excuse not silence so; for't lies in thee	10
To make him much outlive a gilded tomb,	11
And to be praised of ages yet to be.	12
Then do thy office, Muse; I teach thee how	13
To make him seem long hence as he shows now.	14