SONNET 38	PARAPHRASE
How can my Muse want subject to invent,	How can I never have something to write,
While thou dost breathe, that pour'st into my verse	while you live, and help my writing
Thine own sweet argument, too excellent	with your excellent inspiration
For every vulgar paper to rehearse?	for every little insignificant ditty I work on.
O give thyself the thanks, if aught in me	Thank yourself if I am able
Worthy perusal stand against thy sight,	to create something worthy,
For who's so dumb that cannot write to thee,	what fool could not write poems to you,
When thou thyself dost give invention light?	when he has you to the light the way?
Be thou the tenth Muse, ten times more in worth	Be it the tenth Muse, ten times better
Than those old nine which rhymers invocate,	than the old nine which hacks copy,
And he that calls on thee, let him bring forth	and let he who calls on you, let him create
Eternal numbers to outlive long date.	immortal verse.
If my slight Muse do please these curious days,	If my small talent pleases the critics of today,
The pain be mine, but thine shall be the praise.	I will have the pain, but you will have all the praise.