Sonnet 38

How can my Muse want subject to invent,While thou dost breathe, that pour'st into my verseThine own sweet argument, too excellentFor every vulgar paper to rehearse? 4O, give thyself the thanks, if aught in meWorthy perusal stand against thy sight;For who's so dumb that cannot write to thee,When thou thyself dost give invention light? 8Be thou the tenth Muse, ten times more in worthThan those old nine which rimers invocate;And he that calls on thee, let him bring forthEternal numbers to outlive long date. 12If my slight Muse do please these curious days,The pain be mine, but thine shall be the praise.

3 argument: theme4 rehearse: narrate6 against: in8 invention: creative imagination13 curious: fastidious14 pain: labour